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(Ealljprtit? ^ . Uraiiy 


Old Grumpy’s Gold 


AND OTHER STORIES 


la 

<Eaifj*rin* if. Srahg 

i 

Author of Anne’s Reward 



» > 
) » 
5 5 ) 


DENVER, COLO. 

THE REED PUBLISHING COMPANY 
1906 



< 


U8RARY of CONGRESS 
Two Conies Received 

AUG 23 1906 

Copyrignl Entry 
CLASS-/ «. XXc. No. 
COPY B. 


Copyr«ht, 1906, 

By CATHERINE H. BRADY 



P R CS S OF 

JJubltaljing (Corn puny 


CONTENTS. 


Old Grumpy's Gold 5 

The Calendars 13 

A Change of Opinion 17 

Belle's Success 39 

The Grays' Silver 45 

A Detective's Conceit 53 

Robert’s Stenographer.... 59 

The Golda , 67 

And a Little Child Shall Lead Them . 79 

Forgiven > 85 

Bessie Haskins 93 

A Friend in Need 107 

Mary Ann 123 


IV 


CONTENTS 


Heartease 133 

Pine Air Castle 143 

Cady's Telephone 153 

Rabbi 161 

The Sign of the Cross 169 

Cluster's Dismissal 177 

Princess Zoa's Secret.. 181 

VlCTORINE 193 


'OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD. 


r. Mandeville Grumpville was 
vastly wealthy. His wife had 
died many years ago in New 
York. He had remained in the 
same mansion after her death, and, if possible, 
became more stingy than ever. He kept three 
servants, a cook, a butler, and a valet. Though 
he insisted on his meals being served strictly 
on time, and that his house always be in readi- 
ness for possible guests, the great mansion on 

L street was never the scene of merriment. 

The servants declared it had been years since 
a young person or a child had entered its por- 
tals. After his wife’s death, his love of gold 
became so great that many a night he sat in his 



5 


6 


OLD GRU MPY’S GOLD 


library counting and gloating over his vast 
accumulation. 

He lived the life of a hermit in a palace of 
luxury. He had no friends, and he wanted 
none. He trusted no bank, however good its 
standing, and he trusted no man, however great 
his reputation. His wealth was his fireside 
companion. 

As time went on, he was referred to as “Old 
Grumpy.” His mansion was known as 
“Grumpy’s Folly,” and his wealth was spoken 
of as, “Old Grumpy’s Gold.” 

One night he sat smoking in his den. He 
was cross and irritable because he had paid 25 
cents for his cigar at “Blake’s,” and found a 
few minutes later that they were selling the 
same cigar “two for 25c” at Smith’s. The 
butler rapped at the door and announced that 
there was a tramp at the basement door who 


AND OTHER STORIES 


7 


asked for food. Old Grumpy looked up. 
“Well, Sloan, what is there for the beggar?” 
“Please, sir,” answered Sloan, “there is cold 
meat, pudding, cake, pickles, and bread.” 
“Sloan, I want the meat and pudding for break- 
fast. The cake and bread you may -use for 
your own lunch. And Sloan, how many 
pickles are there left?” “There are six pickles 
left, sir.” “Very well, Sloan, you may have 
two, and leave the rest for my lunch tomorrow. 
As far as I can see, there is nothing for 
tramps.” He picked up a paper and Sloan 
took this for his dismissal. 

It is a mistake to think Old Grumpy always 
lived on this meager fare. His table was 
always well spread, but he wanted to know 
what had been left, and managed to find a way 
to dispose of it. His servants got their own 
meals. He did not care for that ; he never asked 


8 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


what they had for themselves, but anything 
that was prepared for him, he meant to finish, 
and he usually did it in a manner similar to 
the pickles. Sloan knew it was a favor (in 
Old Grumpy’s eyes) to be told that he might 
have two pickles. 

Sloan returned to the kitchen with the word 
that “Master said there was nothing for 
tramps.” The cook looked at the stranger, and 
her heart was filled with pity. She asked him 
in, and after devouring two hot egg sandwiches 
and a cup of coffee, the tramp thanked her 
with tears in his honest eyes and again set 
forth on his weary march. 

******* 

While this little scene was being enacted in 
the kitchen, Old Grumpy fell asleep. He 
thought he was counting his gold, and found 
to his great satisfaction that he was many, 


AND OTHER STORIES 


9 


many times a millionaire. He then found him- 
self walking along a beautiful highway, search- 
ing for a secure place to hide his vast fortune. 
He felt weary and sat down to rest under a 
great branching oak by the wayside. He 
seemed listless, but was suddenly aroused by 
a sweet voice saying, “Kind sir, could you give 
me enough to buy meat for my little ones who 
are starving?” He gave her his usual glance 
of contempt, but before he could utter a stern 
rebuff the woman seemed to fade away, and 
in her place stood his own beautiful wife, who 
had been dead so many years. She was 
clothed in rags, and a gaunt, hungry look was 
in her eyes. 

He started toward her, but she held out her 
arm and there seemed to be a curve of scorn on 
her beautiful lips. 

“Oh, Elsa, forgive me; I did not know you. 


10 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


Come to me; I will give you everything you 
ask.” 

Again she retreated from him. A second 
figure appeared. The woman he had just 
turned away was kneeling in the road. His 
wife came forward and raised her up; then, 
turning to him and pointing to the unfortunate, 
starving being, she smiled, her face became ra- 
diant, her dress changed to a costly and beau- 
tiful garment. She smiled again, waved a sad 
farewell to her husband and disappeared into 
the clouds. 

Old Grumpy awoke with a start. He gazed 
about as though to collect his thoughts. “Oh ! 
Elsa,” he moaned ; “it was only a dream.” 

He sat gazing into the fire and thinking of 
his strange vision. “I see it all,” he cried. 
“She wants me to be kind to the poor and she 
will look happy as she did then. O ! what a 


AND OTHER STORIES 


II 


cruel, cruel dream; but, what a divinely beau- 
tiful dream.” 

His mind wandered to the beggar who had 
asked for food earlier in the evening. For- 
getting the lapse of time, he thought it possible 
that he had not yet left the house. He rang 
the bell for the butler, who said it was more 
than three hours since the beggar appeared. 

Old Grumpy then astonished the butler by 
asking him to summon the other servants to 
the room. They came, almost fearing that 
their strange old master might have decided to 
get along without them, and one may imagine 
their astonishment when he told them to get 
the addresses of every orphans’ home in the 
city, and a list of poor families from the Char- 
ity Organization. 

They scarcely knew what to answer, but 
when they had done his bidding, Old Grumpy 


12 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


spent hours signing checks for the Orphans’ 
Home, arranging baskets for the poor, and 
ordering wagon loads of toys for children who 
scarcely knew what toys were, beyond that 
glittering mass in the show windows. His 
neighbors held their breath. Old Grumpy 
was going crazy. But he was happy in the 
thought of that beautiful face which had 
smilingly shown him his duty, and Old Grumpy 
cared less than ever what his neighbors 
thought. 


THE CALENDARS. 


t was a bright morning in Janu- 
ary, and the busy throng passed 
to and fro on the crowded streets 
of New York. In Judge Beam’s 
handsome library in his Fifth Avenue mansion 
his secretary was busy opening several large 
envelopes, each containing a calendar. 

“Well,” said the handsome young secretary, 
“I’ll just place the cardboards in a row and let 
the Judge pick out his own. He is just as 
particular about his calendars as can be.” 

In an hour or two the Judge came in. He 
was an old man, and as he sat down one could 
see that riches had not come of their own free 
will to him, but had been gained by hard work, 



13 


14 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


and now he was at the height of his ambition, 
a rich man. He was old and had, as might 
be termed, “one foot in the grave,” and a trou- 
blesome, thriftless son was to inherit his for- 
tune; a son to whom he had not written in 
many months. 

“Ah,” he exclaimed. “Walters has left the 
calendars for me, I see. I’ll just look them 
over now. Well, this one, ‘Meditation/ I don’t 
care much for, and this one with Mettie Frost 
as a choir girl, I simply can not tolerate,” and 
he tossed them crossly into the waste basket. 

The third one, an Oriental scene, found fa- 
vor in his eyes, but only for a minute, and then 
followed the fate of its companions. The 
fourth and last one was a simple bunch of deli- 
cate forget-me-nots. “Ah !” he exclaimed, 
softly, “this is the one I choose,” and he care- 
fully put it on his desk, leaned back in his chair 


AND OTHER STORIES 


15 


and thought a minute. Slowly he raised his 
head and said : “I believe I’ll write to Howard. 
That calendar made me think of him.” He 
took the pen and wrote : 

“My dear son — ” He swayed in his chair, 
tried to rise, staggered and fell lifeless to the 
floor. 

Later in the day, when Walters entered the 
library, he found his faithful friend dead. 

“Poor fellow,” he exclaimed, and tears filled 
his eyes as he saw the calendar of his choice, 
and the never-to-be-finished letter to his erring 
son. The faithful secretary telegraphed to 
Howard, who hired a “special” and made a rec- 
ord-breaking run to his father’s mansion. 

On his arrival he was shown the calendar, 
and upon inspection “my son” was found writ- 
ten under the bunch of forget-me-nots. 

“My poor father,” moaned Howard. “I 


16 old grumpy’s gold 

have been a source of pain to you all my life, 
but I will turn over a new leaf right here in 
this room, where these four solemn walls were 
the only witnesses to your death struggle. Til 
begin life anew.” 

That was many years ago, and Howard is 
still living in the old mansion and is still a rich 
man. He is always pleased to show the calen- 
dar, though old and soiled, hanging in the 
library, and always says that it is a reminder 
that his father’s last words and thoughts were 
for him. 


A CHANGE OF OPINION. 

race La Salle awoke before her 
sister, and was blustering away 
to herself when her sister cried 
out, “O, Grace, I wish you’d 
go away and let me sleep. I’m just dead from 
De Lacy’s ball. What time was it when we 
came in? I was too tired to look.” 

“Two-thirty,” answered her sister. 

“All right, Grace; now leave me in quiet, 
for I must have some rest for Mulliford’s ball 
and McAllister’s reception.” 

And then Helen settled herself for a good 
sleep, which was rudely broken into by Grace, 
who said : “I know you are tired, Helen, but 
please listen to me just a minute. Aren’t you 



1 7 


i8 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


tired of this continual round of balls, parties, 
spreads, teas, receptions, luncheons, matinees, 
drives, walks, spins, auto-ride^, and levery- 
thing we have to attend?” 

“O,- -yes, Grace, I am; but (yawning) I wish 
you would postpone this conversation until 
I’ve had my forty winks.” 

“I’ll do nothing of the kind; you can hear 
me now or not at all.” 

“Well, only be quick.” 

“As I was saying,” continued Grace, “I am 
tired of all this society doing, and going so 
much. Why, we’re never at home; we’re al- 
ways on the gad.” 

“That’s right,” assented her sister. 

“And I just wish, Helen (seating herself on 
the bed) that we could go away off in the wilds, 
off where society can’t follow, where we can 
wear a calico wrapper if we want, climb moun- 


AND OTHER STORIES 


19 


tains, row or even swim. Now, wouldn’t that 
be just fine?” 

“Indeed it would,” said Helen, raising her- 
self up on her arm and forgetting all about her 
forty winks. 

“The only trouble is,” continued Grace, “I 
don’t know where to go. Can’t you think of 
some wild and wolly Western village?” 

“Well,” said Helen after a moment’s 
thought, “you know Harry Newcome went to 
Denver, and he said there was nothing there, 
not even a first-class hotel; no theaters, parks, 
nothing but wild prairies, wayside inns, moun- 
tains, cabins, brooks and Indians.” 

“Just the place,” cried Grace. “I’m just 
longing for adventure. Let’s go to Denver. 
Now, my dear sister, please promise, and you 
can have eighty winks.” 

But Helen was too much interested in this 


20 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


proposition to fall asleep now, so jumping up 
hastily, she said : “I will dress quickly and then 
we will talk it over. You slip to mamma’s 
room and see if she is up. If she is, tell her 
to come in here before she goes downstairs.” 

Grace found her mother up and ready to 
listen to any new proposition which might in- 
terest her girls. 

On arriving at their room she was told of it 
all. 

“But, my dears,” she exclaimed, “you may 
depend upon it you will find Denver nothing 
as you describe. You will be very much sur- 
prised when you get there.” 

“Oh, phee, mother,” cried both girls. “It’s 
just the wildest spot ever known; but if the 
Indians get troublesome we promise to come 
right home, and the best of it is, mother, we 
can take all of our old clothes; we can wear 


AND OTHER STORIES 


21 


anything there ; you know. All we need is a 
pair of good, thick boots that come almost to 
our knees, and a great, large hat.” 

“What are the boots for, daughter?” asked 
Mrs. La Salle. 

“To keep the rattlesnakes from biting,” 
promptly replied Helen. 

“What’s this I hear about rattlesnakes ?” ex- 
claimed Mr. La Salle, who just at that mo- 
ment appeared in the doorway. Whereupon 
the girls repeated their plan, and he said: 
“Very well, daughters, if you are really tired 
of this hum-drum, you may go on this trip. 
I think you will learn a great deal by it.” 

“And may we ask Susie and Jessie White to 
go along?” they eagerly exclaimed. 

“By all means,” answered their father. 

So the interview ended and all went down to 
breakfast. 

* * * * * * * 


22 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Now,” said Helen as soon as they had as- 
sorted the usual morning mail and had read all 
their invitations, “let’s run over to White’s 
and see if they can go.” 

>{e sjs ijs * 

“Yes,” said Grace a few minutes later, as 
they were sitting in White’s pretty drawing 
room, “Helen and I are going to Denver, and 
wanted to know if you girls cared to make a 
party and come along?” 

“To Denver?” and pretty Jessie threw up 
her hands in horror. “Why, girls, are you 
taking leave of your senses? Why, there is 
nothing in Denver but Indians, cowboys, rob- 
bers, gamblers and all sorts of wild animals,” 
and her sister Susie was actually pale as she 
murmured, “and I know Harry Newcome said 
there was no street cars there. Indeed, I think 


AND OTHER STORIES 


23 


you are very foolish if you go away out there 
and run so many risks ; as for us, why, mother 
would shudder to even think of it.” 

“Well, all right,” said Grace, “Harry has 
told us all this, but we have our parents’ con- 
sent, and if it were just twice as wild we would 
go all the same.” 

They then decided to call Harry up by ’phone 
and ask him to come over that evening. He 
answered their call and said he would come 
over after dinner. In the meantime they pre- 
sented themselves at a shoe store and asked for 
the heaviest boots in the store. The 'clerk 
asked what they would be used for, and when 
they answered, “We are going to spend sev- 
eral weeks in Denver and do not care to run 
any risks from rattlesnakes,” he hastily re- 
treated behind a huge pile of boxes and en- 


24 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


joyed a good laugh. However, he soon com- 
posed himself and sold them each a pair of 
boots that fulfilled their fondest hopes. After 
purchasing several other articles they thought 
suitable for the journey, they returned home. 

After lunch they dressed for a reception. 
Upon their arrival there and when their an- 
nouncement to intimate friends that they pro- 
posed going on such a trip was afloat in the 
room, they were regarded with great awe, and 
heard on all sides exclamations of “ O ! horri- 
ble;” “such a risk.” “A daughter of mine 
should never go to that God-forsaken country.” 
Before the reception was ended it was generally 
understood that they were going on a terrible, 
wild journey, with two chances out of ten of re- 
turning alive, but the two society belles rather 
enjoyed the great consternation they caused by 
their proposed Western trip. 

***** * * 


AND OTHER STORIES 


25 


Harry was announced shortly after dinner, 
and the girls hurried him into the library to 
talk it over undisturbed. 

“Now, Harry,” said Grace with deep con- 
cern, “can you guess what we wanted you for ?” 

“To talk something over, I presume.” 

“Yes, that’s just it, and now down to busi- 
ness. We are going away; going to Denver.” 

“To Denver?” and the handsome young man 
let one ha, ha, ha. 

“Why, girls, you’re crazy to think of such a 
thing.” 

“I know, Harry, but we want quiet and rest 
for a while.” 

“You will certainly find that in Denver,” he 
laughed. 

“And, Harry, we wanted to ask you about 
the hotels ; are there any first-class hotels 
there?” 


26 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Well, there is the Brown Palace, the Shir- 
ley, the Savoy, the Adams and the Albany, 
but, goodness ! they are not — well you will see 
for yourself.” 

“And street cars, Harry?” put in Helen. 

“O, they are out of sight.” 

“Aren’t the houses all cabins?” 

“Well,” said Harry, “here and there you 
will see a house that is not exactly a tent.” 

“And Grace,” whispered Helen, “the rattle- 
snakes, you know.” 

“Oh, yes, Harry ; and about the rattlesnakes ; 
are they seen very often?” 

“Yes, by some folks they are seen frequently, 
and right in the city, too; but I never saw one 
while I was there (and there was a sly twinkle 
in his eye). 

“And the Indians,” said Helen. 

‘Oh, the red men were there every day I was. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


27 


But, girls, it nears opera time, so I must go. 
I am one of a box party.” 

“Well, thank you, very much, for coming 
over, Harry.” 

“Oh, don’t mention it,” replied the gallant 
lad. And as he hurried down the marble steps 
laughing as he went, the girls hastened to their 
rooms and dressed for a ball. 

* * * * * * * 

Next morning (Saturday) they made final 
arrangements and decided to start on Tuesday 
morning. The sun rose high on this morning, 
and everything was bright and fair. 

The girls, after bidding their parents fare- 
well, were driven to the depot. They met sev- 
eral of their friends who had come to see them 
off.* 

“Two return tickets for Denver, please,” 
announced Helen to the ticket agent. 


28 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“What extension, ma’am?” 

“Ninety days, please, and can we get good 
sleeper accommodations?” 

“Certainly.” 

“We are going to spend several weeks in 
Denver,” said Helen. 

“Very beautiful city,” said the man as he 
handed her the tickets. 

This was answered by a merry laugh from 
both girls, in which their friends joined. 

As they stepped on the train, Harry came 
up hurriedly and, after shaking hands, said: 
“Girls, don’t be surprised at anything you see 
in Denver.” 

The cry “All aboard!” was heard, the train 
started, and Grace and Helen were whirled 
through the country westward. 

* * ***** 

When at last they reached Omaha, Grace 


AND OTHER STORIES 


29 


said : “I feel wild and woolly westy already, 
don’t you?” 

“Yes, I expect to see Indians any time, now.” 

The train sped on, and in the middle of the 
second night the conductor called “Denver,” 
“Denver.” 

“Ah !” gasped Grace, “here we are at last,” 
and they filed out into the depot yard. It was 
dark, but with a little assistance they found a 
cab, and were driven to the Savoy, the most 
beautiful hotel in the city. During the drive 
both girls being tired, they leaned their heads 
back and closed their eyes, thus not seeing the 
beautiful arches of dazzling lights. 

“This does not seem very wild and westy to 
me, Helen ; look at that electric sign.” 

When they had entered and signed their 
names they were still more astonished, for there 
was a uniformed boy waiting in his beautiful 


30 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


electric elevator ready to whisk them up to 
their room. This they found to be beautifully 
furnished. They were greatly surprised to find 
a genuine brass bed in it. Grace noticed it first 
and said : “I didn’t think they had brass beds 
and electric elevators in Denver — and such a 
hotel. Why, Helen, it’s simply beautiful; but 
I’m going to jump right into bed.” 

When she threw herself down on the soft 
bed she cried : “Helen, this is a real, real 
Ostermoor mattress. Think of it, and in Den- 
ver. Harry was teasing. I’m beginning to 
think he will have a good laugh on us.” 

Helen joined her sister, and soon both were 
fast asleep. We will leave them sleep- 
ing as only one can sleep under the blue sky of 
Colorado and in the shadow of the great Rocky 
Mountains. 

jj« j|c H 4 % ^ H 4 H 4 


AND OTHER STORIES 


31 


As soon as the girls were on the train Harry 
Newcome hurried back to the La Salle home. 
Mrs. La Salle met him at the door and said: 
“Harry, I have the trunks all ready; now, you 
just come in and help me pack up.” 

“Yes,” said Harry, “I want to start so they 
won’t have time to get lonesome. I want to 
arrive about twenty-four hours after them.” 

“Yes, that is best,” said Mrs. La Salle. 
“Now tell me; shall I put everything in the 
trunk and you send yours over here, and they 
can be sent together to the depot?” 

“Yes, that will save time,” said Harry, “and 
please be sure to put in their nice shoes,” and 
the young man doubled up with laughter when 
he remembered the great boots. 

“O ! Harry, you are a caution, and it would 
serve you right if the girls won’t look at you 


32 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


when you get there/’ and she pretended to be 
highly indignant. 

Harry apologized, and ’mid laughter and 
mirth they carried out such loads of beautiful 
clothes that it was nearing dinner time when 
the trunk was at last strapped and ready. 

Harry had told the girls that the Savoy 
would be the best place to stop, so he knew just 
where he would find them. 

After a very pleasant dinner with Mr. and 
Mrs. La Salle he hurried to his room and 
quickly threw things into his trunk, and, if 
he had been watched, he would have been seen 
putting in a very swell dress suit. He dis- 
patched the trunk, bade farewell to a few 
friends, received final directions from Mrs. La 
Salle and was soon on the train speeding west- 
ward. 

* * * * * * * 


AND OTHER STORIES 


33 


The morning after their arrival the girls 
arose much rested and ready for a good break- 
fast. 

“I think we will just put on our muslin 
wrappers,” said Grace, “for they are new and 
look pretty.” 

Soon the girls were ready. They were first 
in the dining room. They looked about and 
thought everything beautiful, and indeed it 
was. Several ladies entered, dressed in beau- 
tiful morning robes. Each gave the girls a 
haughty stare and passed on. It was a very 
uncomfortable meal for them, and they were 
glad when it was over. 

* * * * * * * 

When they found themselves in their room 
both declared they would not venture out again 
for a week; both were cross and quarreled all 
day. Grace exclaimed every once in awhile : 


34 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Oh, my kingdom for a good chance at Harry.” 
And Helen would reply, “Harry was not teas- 
ing us; it’s six months since he was here, and 
it’s built up.” 

“Yes, built up in six months, your granny; 
he wanted to be smart; but I’ll just fix him 
when we get home.” 

Jjs ijs sjs ijc ^ 

They ate a little lunch in their room, but 
when dinner time came they were so hungry 
that they were forced to think of the dining 
room. They rummaged in their trunk and 
found a neat white dress for each. They 
added a lace bertha and were ready. This 
time when they entered the dining room they 
did not see those roguish eyes and that roguish 
young man almost hidden from view in a huge 
leather chair. 

As soon as they had taken their seats at their 


AND OTHER STORIES 


35 


table they heard a light footstep and saw a 
young man slip into the chair opposite. They 
were reading the menu, but looked up quickly, 
but the young man was quick, too, and a news- 
paper went up before his face. However, the 
girls thought there was something familiar in 
the way that paper was held, and Grace said 
in her sternest tones: ‘Harry Newcome, put 
that paper down or leave the table.” 

The paper did not move, and Helen said: 
“Harry, how on earth did you come here?” 

Down went the paper. “Oh ! Good evening, 
girls ; so pleased to see you here never dreamed 
of meeting you .in Denver.” 

Grace gave him a withering look and re- 
plied : ‘ “No, Mr. Newcome, we started for 
the West.” 

“So did I,” he answered quickly, “but I 
stopped over in Denver.” He then turned to 


36 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


the waiter, who had just come up, and said: 
“Dinner for three.” 

Helen and Grace were so surprised at 
Harry’s sudden appearance they could not do 
justice to the sumptuous dinner. When it was 
concluded, the girls, pretending to be very 
scornful, said : “Good evening, Mr. New- 
come.” 

“Not so fast, girls,” he laughed as he fol- 
lowed them into the main hall. “There is 
some baggage here for you,” and turning as he 
spoke, he indicated a trunk which had just 
been brought in. “Your mother sent it,” he 
added, “and now I will have it taken to your 
room and then bid you good evening, for I 
have promised to meet a ‘red man’ at seven, 
and you will want to unpack your trunk.” 

“My room is 302, girls,” he called as he 


AND OTHER STORIES 


37 


turned to go. “And ours is 502,” they called 
back. 

* * * * * * * 

The next morning they started out to see 
the city. They missed nothing. They were 
on the go from morning till dinner time and 
again in the evening. 

5 {s * 5|< s <« * * >1 J 

The next time we see the girls, Helen is 
dressed in white silk, and a beautiful bridal veil 
fastened with a diamond sunburst hangs almost 
to the ground. She holds a bunch of pure 
white rosebuds in her hand. 

Grace is dressed in white also, and carries a 
bunch of red roses. A knock sounds on the 
door. Harry is coming for his bride. They 
are hurried to Trinity Church, and when the 
ceremony is over they return to a beautiful 

banquet at the Savoy. 

* * * * * * * 


38 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Helen, ” said Grace, “I wish you had waited 
until we got home, for what will they think 
when they hear you were married out in the 
West?” 

“Just what we would have thought if Harry 
had not given us this llesson; but now it is a 
change of opinion.” 

“Well,” said Grace, “I confess I like Denver, 
too, and feel kind of romantic to have a sister 
married here. 

“And live here,” said Harry. 

“Live here?” said Grace, ready to cry. 

“Oh, don’t feel bad, little sister, I’ll telegraph 
for George, and you can have a Denver wed- 
ding, too.” 

“Don’t bother about sending for George, a 
wild and woolly westerner will do for me.” 

“Another change of opinion,” laughed 
Harry’s young bride. 


BELLE’S SUCCESS. 


elle Travis sat patiently in the 
editor’s reception room. There 
were several others in the room, 
but she was next to be ushered 
into the presence of the editor of “The Star.” 
As she sat waiting, she was thinking of her 
prospects. She was 23, very bright and pretty. 
She had just lost her father, and as she had a 
decided literary talent, she meant to help her 
widowed mother and make her just as comfort- 
able as possible. So she had come with sev- 
eral of her poems and stories to the editor of 
“The Star.” 

She would like to be a (reporter, she was 
thinking, but just then the door was opened 



39 


40 


OLD GRU MPY’S GOLD 


and Mr. Law called out, “Next !” Belle was 
nervous, and hurriedly dashed away a tear with 
her black-bordered handkerchief. Soon she 
was talking quietly with him, and felt very 
much at ease, for he was very pleasant. 

“My dear,” he said, after scanning her work, 
“you have talent and your stories are all worth 
a good price, but, you see, you have to have a 
pull to get into the magazines. A daily never 
pays for poems or stories.” 

“Could you try me as a reporter?” she asked. 

“Have you had any experience?” 

“No, but I think I could write up articles 
to suit if you gave me the chance.” 

Just then the telephone rang. After talk- 
ing several minutes Mr. Law turned to her and 
said: “There’s been a murder, but James, our 
head reporter, says they refuse to let anyone 
in. He says one man is dead and the other 
very low. The police are keeping guard.” 


AND OTHER STORIES 


41 


He pressed a button near his desk, and soon 
a tall young fellow entered. Mr. Law re- 
peated to him what he had told Belle, adding : 
“Now see, Walters, The Herald’ and The 
Tribune’ will get up something if they have to 
make it up, but we want facts, and nothing but 
facts will go.” 

Just then the ’phone rang again. This time 
James said that all he could find out was that 
a Dr. Myres and a Dr. Locke had been called. 
Dr. Myres had come, but Dr. Locke was wait- 
ing at his office for a nurse. There they were 
shut ofT and the editor was in a quandary. 

A sudden light shone in Belle’s eyes, and she 
eagerly exclaimed: “O, Mr. Law, will you 
give me a try at that? All I ask is half an 
hour. Don’t put anyone else on it till I ’phone 
you; I’m sure I’ll make it.” 


42 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“My dear Miss Travis, I will give you just 
one-half hour, but no longer, and you must 
’phone so I can put Parks on it if necessary. 
But how do you propose to do it?” 

“Please don’t ask me, Mr. Law, but you just 
gave me ia cue and I mean to follow it up; 
maybe I’ll get through, too.” 

* * 

She hurried out of the office and down the 
street till she came to Dr. Locke’s office, where 
she found him waiting. 

“O, Dr. Locke, have you got a nurse for that 
wounded man yet?” she panted, all out of 
breath. 

“Why, Belle, what’s the matter? You’re 
as white as death.” 

“O, yes, I walked so fast.” 

Then she told him of her experience at “The 


AND OTHER STORIES 


43 


Star.” At the conclusion he smiled and said : 
“Ah, so you want to get in as the nurse. Well, 
Belle, I have ’phoned and ’phoned, ever since 
we were called, and I can get no one. Miss 
Lester promised if she came she would be here 
in ten minutes, and it’s about up now.” 

Dr. Myres called up and told Dr. Locke to 
come at once, nurse or no nurse, as the man 
was very low. 

“Please let me, please do, Dr. Locke.” 

The doctor paused. “Well, Belle,” he said, 
you were a fine little nurse when your father 
was sick, and I have half a mind to try you. 
Just slip into this nurse’s suit in a jiffy.” 

She went into the private room and soon 
came out gowned as a professional nurse. Just 
before she left the private room she had tele- 
phoned to her mother and when she rang up 
Mr. Law, she said : “It’s all right; I’ll get in.” 
* * * * * * * 


44 


OLD grumpy’s gold 


Dr. Locke and Belle hurried to the address, 
and of course had no difficulty in passing the 
guard of police. The doctors held a consulta- 
tion. This gave time for Belle to collect her 
thoughts. Nothing escaped her notice, and at 
midnight when the patient slept, she wrote her 
notes. The result was that “The Star” pub- 
lished the only accurate account of the murder, 
and no one but Dr. Locke and Mr. Law knew 
how it came about. Belle won a permanent 
place on the staff of “The Star,” and more than 
once proved herself worth her weight in gold. 


THE GRAYS’ SILVER. 



he home of the Grays was “ready” 
in every sense of the word ; ready 
for the elaborate dinner and ball 
to be given that evening. Even 


now, Hilda passed around the room, now wip- 
ing a speck of dust from the sideboard, now 
rearranging the roses in the center of the table. 
Mrs. Gray looked in. 

“Everything ready, Hilda? And Hilda, in 
case I do not see you again this evening, I 
wish you would put the silver in the basket 
yourself and take it to your room, as James will 
be too tired to take it back to the vault tonight. 
I think you have all the directions, and this 
room looks charming. I must go and dress 
now.” A slight rustle of silk and she was gone. 


45 



46 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


Hilda gazed after her and thought, “How 
nice to be rich. I might be if I had married 
Herbert Mann, for he is now a prime minister 
and a noted author. I wonder if he ever 
thinks of poor little Hilda Sprague. I have not 
seen him since my parents died, and he little 
thinks that I am maid to the ‘observed of the 
observed,’ Mrs. Humbert Gray. I wonder if 
he would care?” She dashed a tear away and 
glanced at the guest list. She read on until 
she saw written before her: “Herbert Mann, 
Miss Estelle Bensen.” Was it possible? And 
Estelle Bensen, the belle of society. Even Mrs. 
Gray was rather afraid of the charming blonde. 
And she with Herbert. Well, he will never 
know me, and — 

But at this moment Sarah, the cook, came 
from the kitchen to announce that everything 
was fine — “dune to a thurn.” Hilda smiled 


AND OTHER STORIES 


^7 


and said: ‘‘Sarah, no dinner could help be- 
ing good if you cooked it;” 

Sarah, well pleased at this compliment, hur- 
ried to the kitchen to announce to James that 
“Miss Stell” was a true lady all right. 

* * * * * * * 

The parlor was a blaze of light when Mrs. 
Gray and her husband came down. The guests 
arrived and were pleasantly chatting when it 
was announced that Miss Estelle Bensen was 
to be there. Soon carriage wheels were heard 
and the beautiful girl entered on the arm of a 
handsome man who was instantly recognized 
as the prime minister. 

“Why, Mr. Mann/’ said a pert maiden, 
“when did you arrive? You might look up 
your old friends. We feel slighted.” 

“My dear Carrie, I arrived only this morn- 
ing, and I have not forgotten my old friends 


48 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


nor my manners. Allow me; Miss Bensen, 
Miss Hunt, an old school mate of mine. But 
come, our hostess has given the signal for din- 
ner.” 

* * * * * * * 

All was chatter and laughter as the guests 
took their seats. Hilda’s heart beat rapidly 
when she saw him with the beautiful girl. She 
could hear the jests and witty remarks. She 
was watching Estelle and Herbert talking qui- 
etly together, when all at once she heard Es- 
telle exclaim : “O, Herbert, is not that a 

sweet girl ?” 

Herbert glanced along the table. 

“O, I mean the maid,” said Estelle. 

“Indeed she is,” he answered. “She is very 
much like someone I used to know.” 

“Does she resemble her strongly, Herbert?” 

“So strongly that but for the fact the one of 


AND OTHER STORIES 


49 


whom I speak is very rich, I would say it was 
she.” 

When the dinner was over they repaired to 
the ball room, where beautiful music, mingled 
with the carroling of birds was filling the air 
with sweetness. 

“How delightful,” sighed Estelle. 

“Indeed it is,” answered Miss Hunt, “I just 
think it’s beautiful.” 

After several waltzes, the dancers were 
startled by a loud scream, followed by a crash 
and another scream. The ladies were frantic. 
Herbert Mann sprang to his feet and cried : 
“Ladies, remain here. Mr. Gray and I will 
see what the trouble is.” 

Accordingly they left the room. Several 
minutes passed, when a heavy tramp sounded 
through the hall. 

“The police!” cried one. Soon after, Mr. 


50 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


Gray entered and stated that a bold attempt 
had been made to steal the silver. But Hilda, 
concealed in the shadow of one of the windows, 
had seen the robber lay his revolver on the 
table while he examined the plate. Quick as a 
wink, Hilda had grabbed it and held him at 
bay while she screamed for help. They had 
sent for the officers who had taken him in 
charge. 

“Poor Hilda, I must go to her,” said the 
hostess. 

“And where is Herbert?” asked Estelle. 

“O, I forgot. He ought to be arrested, too.” 

“What?” 

“Just so,” said Mr. Gray. “He’s a thief.” 

“Impossible,” cried the excited guests. 

“Well, it’s just the same. He recognized in 
Hilda an old friend, and, well, I guess Hilda 


AND OTHER STORIES 


51 


will give her notice, or if she don’t Herbert will 
give it for her.” 

“The idea!” exclaimed Miss Hunt. 
“Absurd!” exclaimed Estelle. 













A DETECTIVE’S CONCEIT. 


ne morning last May I arose early, 
and as it was such a beautiful 
morning I decided to walk to my 
office. I lighted a cigar and 
walked leisurely along, drinking in all the 
beauty of such a rare morning. 

When I arrived at the office I found a card 
pinned on the door which read : “Murder com- 
mitted at 127 L. St. Please come at once. 
B. Lake.” 

I re-read the card, not, I must confess, with- 
out a feeling of pride, for I was beginning to 
be looked upon as a detective quite worthy of 
notice. Not regarded as a Sherlock Holmes, 



S3 


54 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


of course, but I had made a success of several 
cases which I had undertaken. 

I felt rather flattered as I entered my private 
office to glance over the mail, for I did not 
know when I would return to the office, and it 
was possible that one or more letters might re- 
quire my immediate attention. 

After glancing through the letters, I left the 
office and in a few minutes I presented my card 
at the given number. I was admitted and told 
that Mr. Lake would see me at once. 

“You are Martin Merle, the detective, I un- 
derstand,” was his salutation. . fcjk 

I answered in the affirmative. 

“Well,” continued Mr. Lake, “we have had 
a murder here. A young man who was room- 
ing with us was found dead this morning, and 
there seems to be no possible clue to the city 
police, but they have agreed to guard the room 
until some conclusion is reached.” 


AND OTHER STORIES 


55 


I expressed my desire to see the room at 
once. 

He led the way upstairs to a front room on 
the right, which overlooked a beautiful, spa- 
cious lawn which seemed to melt away into the 
far-away mountain tops. I w&s enchanted with 
the view, but Mr. Lake soon recalled me to the 
duties for which I had been summoned. The 
two officers who had been sitting in the room 
arose and went out as we entered. Mr. Lake 
gave me some data, but when I said I would 
like to see the body, he told me it had been 
removed to Mr. X ’s undertaking apart- 

ments. 

After I had made my notes and asked several 
questions, Mr. Lake left me alone in the room. 
I hunted through the drawers of the dresser, 
but nothing came of it. I turned the desk in- 
side out and read all the dead man’s recent cor- 


56 old grumpy’s gold 

respondence, but no possible clue presented it- 
self. I searched the room from corner to cor- 
ner, but found nothing. I pulled out the couch 
and found a handkerchief (I was positive it 
was not there when I moved the couch a few 
minutes before). I picked it up and examined 
it, finding a small “M. M.” on it. 

“A clue,” I cried, “A clue.” I folded it 
carefully and put in into my pocketbook. 

I rang the bell and Mr. Lake appeared. “I 
have found a clue,” I said; “a small one, but 
nevertheless a clue.” 

“Something you found in the room?” he 
asked. 

“Oh,” I said, my professional dignity com- 
ing to my aid, “I prefer not to make any state- 
ment, or even make the nature of the clue pub- 
lic until developments in the case justify it.” 

He said no more, except to bid me good-day. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


57 


I returned to my office and found a neatly tied 
package on the table. I opened it, finding my 
laundry, which consisted of my office towels 
and a few handkerchiefs. I was about to place 
them in their respective places when something 
made me look again at the handkerchiefs. A 
fear entered my mind. I hastily pulled out 
my pocketbook and taking out the handker- 
chief which I had found, placed it alongside 
the others. They were the same! Heavens, I 
saw it all now. What a fool I was. While 
I was searching the room, I became very warm 
and had placed my handkerchief around my 
collar. In moving around and pulling out fur- 
niture it had become loosened and in some 
manner got under the couch. Heavens! I 
had picked up my own handkerchief! How 
could I ever face anyone after that? 

Just then the 'phone rang and the Chief of 


58 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


Police informed me that Mr. Lake had been 
arrested on his own confession. “Have you 
any clue?” asked the Chief, and I fancied the 
wires echoed a light laugh. My face flushed, 
my heart beat rapidly, but I managed to an- 
swer: “Well, Chief, I have no real clue, but 
after careful consideration of the case I had 
decided that Mr. Lake knew more than he 
cared to tell, and before sunset I would have 
made a desperate effort to get a confession 
from him.” 

The chief answered something, and I hastily 
hung up the receiver. “A narrow escape,” I 
cried, and then I sat down and had a laugh at 
myself. 


ROBERT’S STENOGRAPHER. 


n the law office of “Parks & 
Parks” everything bespoke a 
rushing business, and the two 
brothers, Robert and Hobert, 
were talking earnestly. Robert looked very 
handsome as the sun fell on his yellow hair, 
and his blue eyes were as innocent as a child’s, 
while Hobert was just the opposite, with his 
dark hair and dark eyes and his heavy jaws. 

“I tell you,” Robert was saying pleasantly, 
“our business is growing so that we will just 
have to have a stenographer.” 

“Well,” growled Hobert, “suit yourself, but 
don’t blame me if it injures us in more ways 
than it /helps, and for me, I think those girl 



6o 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


stenographers always make more trouble than 
they’re worth.” 

“Oh, nonsense,” laughed his brother. “I’ll 
bet we can get a good, sensible girl for steno- 
grapher, just as well as for anything else.” 

“Well, you just try it.” 

“I mean to. I’ll put an ad. in The Clipper,’ 
and I’ll wager we will have a nice stenographer 
installed here in a couple of days with her fin- 
gers just itching to use that new machine,” and 
Robert jumped up and dusted his typewriter 
for the ninety-ninth time that day. 

Hobert pulled out his watch, muttered some- 
thing about an appointment and left the office. 

Next day many people applied in answer to 
the ad. in “The Clipper.” Robert had almost 
decided that it was not such an easy matter to 
secure a good stenographer as he had thought, 


AND OTHER STORIES 6l 

and Hobert was just on the verge of saying, 
“I told you so,” when a knock sounded on the 
private door. As it was opened it admitted a 
smiling little girl in short dresses and appar- 
ently not more than twelve years of age. “Is 
this Mr. Parks?” she asked, looking at Robert. 

“It is, my little lady, and what can I do for 
you ?” 

“I saw an ad. — ” but she got no further. 

“Were you looking for the job?” exclaimed 
both men at once. “Why, my child, your feet 
wouldn’t even touch the floor sitting in that 
chair, and you’re too little, and too young for 
the place. You can’t be more than twelve. 
The idea of a baby like you wanting to be a 
stenographer.” 

The brothers thought she would be more 
at home with dolls. 

“I am fourteen,” she said quietly, “and I can 


62 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


typewrite and take down shorthand, and I 
guess — I guess, I need the money.” 

Robert looked at her neat little dress and her 
sweet face and thought: “I wonder if she 
could fill the place?” 

“My dear,” he said, “I have half a mind to 
try you, child or not. Children must live, 
same as we. Can you stay now?” 

She quickly threw off her hat and was ready 
for work. As Robert was giving her the first 
letter he said: “By the way, what is your 
name?” 

“Vera Brown,” she answered. 

She took the first letter and astonished them 
with her rapidity, accuracy and neatness. 

Vera had worked nearly six months, and as 
it was nearing Christmas, the house was doing 
a rushing business. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


63 


One evening Vera was standing near the 
large book case. She was just putting up her 
papers preparatory to going home, when she 
heard the sound of a key in the lock and Ho- 
bert’s voice saying : “Pshaw ! there’s no dan- 
ger. Nobody will find it out, and it will be 
put onto the janitor, or, better yet, they will 
put in onto the little stenographer.” 

Vera, expecting danger, quickly stepped in- 
side the book case and pulled the door shut. 
They were in the room now, and Vera in her 
cramped quarters could almost hear her heart 
beat. What right had he to talk about putting 
anything on her? Just then she heard a soft 
sound. “7, 6, 2, 3,” said' Hobert. “That 
must be the combination of the safe,” thought 
Vera. “They are robbing Mr. Robert. O, 
what shall I do?” 

“The $5,000 will do,” said a strange voice, 


6 4 


OLD GRUMPY’S SOLD 


“now close the safe and leave everything just 
as you got it.” 

Just then a merry whistle sounded and a sec- 
ond key turned in the lock. The door flew 
open and Robert entered. 

“Why, Hobert, what are you doing down 
here so late? And Williams, how do you do? 
I came down to get some money that I thought 
would be safer in the bank.” 

He went to the safe, took out his money and 
counted it. His face changed. Vera longed 
to cry out and tell all she knew. Hobert 
cleared his throat, while Williams walked to the 
window. 

“I am short just $5,000, Hobert, and I can- 
not understand it. No one was here but 
you — ” 

“And Vera,” put in Hobert sneeringly. 

“Stop right there ; that child never took that 


AND OTHER STORIES 65 

money, but what were you doing here when I 
returned? Hobert, you took that money and 
you know it. I am sure of it; I can see it in 
your face.” 

“Well, suppose I did; there is nothing to 
prove it, and no one saw me, so there you are.” 

“I saw you,” came a voice, and the doors 
of the book case flew open and Vera stepped 
out. 

“Vera, Vera,” cried Robert, “did my brother 
take the money?” 

Hobert glanced fiercely at her, but she was 
not afraid, and quickly answered, “He did.” 

“Hobert, it seems to me that after all I have 
done for you, it is pretty hard to have you treat 
me like this.” 

Hobert came closer. “Robert, here it is, and 
I’ll never steal again. Take your money, and 
I hope I’ll be a better man for this.” 


66 


OLD GRU MPY’S GOLD 


Robert silently put the note among the rest 
on the table, and as Hobert walked away he 
said: “I always said a stenographer would 
make trouble.*' ’ 

But Robert quickly answered: “This one 
saved you a lot of trouble, Hobert.” 


THE GOLDA. 


liza Pickens opened the door of 
her kitchen and exclaimed, “Pm 
just roasted.” She seated her- 
self on an old bench in the shade 
of the house and wiped the sweat from her 
brow. “Oh, this weather,” she sighed, and 
just then she spied a stranger coming up the 
mountain leading a little child by the hand. 
“Another boarder, most likely; land, I’ve got 
sixteen now. All just come up here pros- 
pectin’, never get nothin’. But jest look at 
that blessed baby. Now, what’s she a doin’ in 
a mining camp ? I wonder where’s her 
mother ?” 

By the time she had given vent to this out- 
67 



68 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


burst of gossip the man and child were near 
the house. As he approached the door he 
said : “Beg pardon, but is this a boarding 
house ?” 

“Yes, sir; anyone what boards at Eliza 
Pickens’ hain’t starved.” 

“Could you take me and my baby for room, 
too?” 

“What’s that baby doing up here? Why 
ain’t she with her ma?” 

The man’s great, brown eyes filled with 
tears as he answered : “We started out in a 
schooner to cross these mountains, but got 
snowed in on the other side of the range. Her 
mother took the pneumonia and died. We 
buried her in the gulch.” 

Miss Pickens looked kindly at the child and 
said: “What is her name?” 

“We called her Golda, after her mother. Her 


AND OTHER STORIES 69 

mother had golden hair, too,” said the man 
sadly. 

Eliza Pickens took the sweet little girl in 
her arms and said: “Yes, I will take care of 
Golda, while you hunt for a fortune in one of 
these holes. And now to business. What’s 
your name?” 

“It’s Hugh Mack,” answered the stranger, 
“and, Eliza Pickens, you shall some day be 
paid for your kindness to my baby.” 

“How old is she?” asked Eliza. 

“Only years,” answered the father, and 
as he glanced fondly at his Golda he saw she 
had fallen asleep in Eliza Pickens’ arms. 

“Poor baby,” she said, and lifting her as 
tenderly as her mother could possibly have 
done, carried her into the house and laid her 
on her bed. Carefully covering her with a 


70 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


snow-white quilt, she returned to the father, 
completed the arrangements and showed him a 
room on the second floor that was not only 
cosy but was spotlessly clean. 

“Now,” she exclaimed, “make yourself com- 
fortable; supper will be ready in exactly 
twenty minutes. That’s when I call the men. 
Golda will eat with me as soon as she wakes 
up.” 

Twenty minutes later a shrill horn blew, and 
it brought men seemingly from every direction, 
for woe unto him who was late at Eliza Pick- 
ens’ meals. Hugh Mack came down and took 
his place at the table, while the other men were 
washing in the wash-room just off the kitchen. 
Presently they filed in and took their seats. 
Some eyed the stranger with hatred, for they 
wanted no newcomers to splice up with. Some 


AND OTHER STORIES 


7 1 


addressed him with “Hello; stranger in these 
parts?” while some did not notice him. 

As the meal progressed the conversation be- 
came more general. Someone said : “Saw 
Bob Black while I was away.” 

“Where?” they asked in a chorus. 

“Over in the gulch. He’s cornin’ back to 
prospect, and says that this time if anyone beats 
him. on his claim he’ll shoot him dead.” 

“Poor Bob, he’s had a purty hard time of it, 
and I don’t wonder that he’s sore. He was 
beat four times, but always let the other fel- 
low go.” 

“That’s right,” said one, “I wonder if he’s 
got his dog yet?” 

“Yes,” answered the first speaker, “and 
she’s as pretty and slick as ever.” 

“What’s this her name is?” 

“Jewel.” 


72 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Oh, yes ; and ishe lis a rare one, I can tell 
you.” 

Hugh Mack had finished his meal and was 
listening to the conversation of the sturdy 
miners. At last the meal was over and the 
miners were allowed to go into the best room 
to talk over the “news.” Jim, a sturdy fellow 
of six feet, entered with a loud laugh on his 
lips, and another with an oath almost out, but 
all were held back, for they caught sight of 
sweet little Golda, still sound asleep. 

“Ain’t she a beaut?” said one. 

“Just like my little Amy,” said another, “but 
let’s get out. We might wake her.” 

They all tip-toed out and Eliza Pickens knew 
from that day Golda would be a favorite with 
all those rough, hardened, but still tender- 
hearted men. 

* * * * * * * 


AND OTHER STORIES 


73 


Several days passed and Bob Black returned 
to camp to his “prospectin’.” He warned all 
his friends about “beating” or “jumping.” 

Everything went smoothly. Golda was thriv- 
ing and happy. Jewel was the pet dog of the 
camp, and Hugh Mack had started “pros- 
pectin’ ” this side of the river, just above the 
rapids. He had not “struck it” yet, but was 
not discouraged. Eliza Pickens saw that no 
harm came to little Golda, and when she told 
the miners about the sad death of Hugh Mack’s 
wife they were friendlier and did not seem to 
fear him as a “jumper” or a “beater.” 

* * * * * * * 

About a month after Bob’s return he came 
in to supper with murder in his eye. 

“What’s the trouble? Anything happened 
to Jewel, Bob?” 

“No, I am beat again; some sneak started 


74 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


just above the rapids, and I started just below 
them, on this shore. I found a huge vein and 
followed it. It ran sort of along the river, 
just about half-way I saw a ‘hole’ and I am 
clean jumped again. The other fellow, who 
ever he is, will strike it in his hole in a little 
while, and then ther’ll be the devil to pay, for 
if I catch him, I’ll fill him full of lead as sure as 
my name is Bob Black.” 

Just then little Golda came in with a bunch 
of flowers in her tiny hands. She asked Bob 
to “ ’mell ’em,” and he took her on his lap and 
played with her till supper time, little dreaming 
that her father had already “beat” him. 

Eliza Pickens came in and said : “See here, 
Bob Black, you’ll have to pay me extra for 
Jewel’s board if I have to cook special for her. 
She will eat only just what takes her fancy, and 


AND OTHER STORIES 


75 


I ain’t a-goin’ to town every day for a porter- 
house steak for any old dog.” 

A loud laugh greeted this outburst of tem- 
per, and when Hugh Mack came in it was re- 
peated to him. 

Next day Hugh Mack struck the vein which 
would cause him no end of trouble. About 
noon he saw a man on the tow-path of a nearby 
mountain, but paid no attention to him. While 
he was on his way to the spring for some fresh 
water, he was overtaken by Bob Black, who 
angrily exclaimed : “You scoundrel, you beat 
me on my claim, and I’ll fill you full of lead 
for it.” 

“Beat you, Bob, why, I’ve just struck a vein 
myself.” 

“Yes/ snarled Bob Black, “and you’ve beat 
your last, and — ” 


76 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


But just then Eliza came running toward 
them screaming “Help ! Bob, Golda’s gone and 
fell in the river; she’ll be drowned.” 

Bob dropped his revolver, gave a shrill 
whistle for Jewel and rushed toward the river, 
followed by the father. Jewel knew that when 
her master whistled like that, there was some- 
thing wrong, and it only took a second to see 
what the trouble was. Almost before Bob 
could point out the child, the dog was swim- 
ming toward her. He grasped her and swam 
to the shore, where Bob gently lifted her in 
his arms and hurried into the house. Then 
Eliza set to work to restore the unconscious 
child. Soon she came to and appeared none 
the worse for her adventure. 

* * * * * * * 

Bob and Hugh Mack stood in the rear of 
the house. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


77 


“Bob, how can I ever thank you for saving 
my baby, and you, too, Jewel?” he said, pat- 
ting the dog kindly. “And as to the mine, 
why, I’ll give up my share. My child is worth 
more than all the gold in this camp.” 

“That’s all right,” growled Bob Black, “but 
I made a vow that I would kill the next one 
that beat me, and I am going to do it. I’ll give 
you ten — i, 2, 3, 4, 5 — ” but at this moment 
Eliza sprang between them with, “I never see 
the like of you, Bob Black; going to shoot 
Hugh Mack. What’s he ever done to you, I’d 
like to know?” 

Bob hung his head. “He beat me, Eliza, and 
I swore I’d kill the next one that did.” 

“Oh, that’s nothin’, I think he looks like a 
good partner. Why don’t you go together and 
make a mine and name it The Golda?’ You’ll 


78 old grumpy’s gold 

both be rich then, while if you kill him you’ll — 
you’ll — leave little Golda all alone.” 

Bob looked at Hugh Mack and said : “It’s 
a go.” 

It was settled. The mine was staked, ma- 
chinery put in, and it was named “The Golda.” 

It made both men rich, and Eliza Pickens 
doesn’t have to keep boarders now. She lives 
in the city in great style, and she is known as 
Golda’s mamma. 


AND A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD 
THEM. 


ne Sunday morning in June, the 
birds were singing from all the 
tree tops. Everything in nature 
seemed bright and happy. 

No less beautiful was the interior of St. 

Church of Boston, with its grand pulpit 

and choir loft, and the sun streaming in on the 
white-haired organist idling his time away with 
a beautiful hymn. 

The scent of flowers was in the air, and one 
could see that the vases of roses, carnations and 
other flowers had been placed in the church by 
loving hands. Their pastor, who was three- 
score and ten, was beloved by all, even the 
79 



8o 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


little children who were his pride and happi- 
ness. 

The sun rose higher. The organist gradu- 
ally slipped off into day-dreaming and the mu- 
sic died away without his knowing it. 

He came back to the things of earth when he 
found the church slowly filling, and the white- 
haired pastor in his place. 

After the opening prayer and hymn, the text 
was read, the minister finding good spiritual 
food in this simple little verse, “And a little 
child shall lead them.” 

After the choir had sung a beautiful song, 
the aged shepherd preached a sermon remem- 
bered to this very day by every one of his flock. 

And, at the close, when he had inspired them 
with his talk of childhood and its purity, he 
said : “We will now have a solo by Miss Em- 
ily Bivens.” 


AND OTHER STORIES 


8l 


The congregation settled themselves for a 
solo by some young prima donna, but imagine 
their surprise when “Miss Emil Bivens” proved 
to be no other than a little tot of 12 with golden 
hair. 

She entered the choir lift, and soon the or- 
gan was pealing forth that immortal piece, 
“The Holy City.” Suddenly the organ’s grand 
tones were mere whispers of encouragement to 
the fair-haired child, and the people held their 
breath as her glorious voice broke out with 
“Last Night I Lay a Sleeping” and swelled 
with rapture until she fairly shook with emo- 
tion as she sang “As the shadow of a cross 
arose upon a lonely hill.” And so on through 
the beautiful selection. The audience sat spell- 
bound until she gave the last “Hosanna for 
evermore.” 

Her voice, in fact, her whole being trembled 


82 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


with emotion, and as she descended from the 
choir loft the people noticed she was deadly 
pale. 

Suddenly a stifled sob was heard, and a beau- 
tiful young woman was crying, “My baby, my 
baby.” The little singer heard her and gave a 
joyful cry, “O, Mamma; did you come back to 
me?” 

The minister then heard the story. The 
same old story of how the wealthy young 
mother had deserted her babe in New York 
and left her with her father. He, finding as 
she grew older, that she possessed a remarkable 
voice, had come to Boston to have it trained. 
The mother had come to church that morning 
little dreaming that her husband and child had 
removed to that city, and was completely over- 
come when she heard her babe’s wonderful 


voice. 


AND OTHER STORIES 83 

The minister, with a lump in his throat, pro- 
nounced the benediction, and there was scarcely 
a dry eye in the great church as the curious 
crowd watched the little golden-haired singer 
walking hand in hand down the street with her 
newly-found mamma. 

A quaint old lady who wore a Quaker bon- 
net murmured, with an impressive shake of her 
head : “And a little child shall lead them. ,, 

“Ah, yes, and a little child shall lead them.” 






































































































































FORGIVEN. 


rs. Owen was lying snugly among 
the sofa pillows on a beautiful 
couch in her room. Since the 
death of her husband three years 
before, she was rather fond of playing the role 
of a semi-invalid. 

She was reading the latest novel, and occa- 
sionally she would lift her eyes to gaze out of 
the window. She was aroused from her list- 
lessness by a knock on the door, and settling 
herself more comfortably, called, “Come in.” 

The door opened and a beautiful girl entered. 
“O, mamma,” cried the newcomer, “you can’t 
guess what I have to tell you. I know you will 
be very angry, but it’s done now.” 

85 



86 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“What?” asked the mother sweetly, “has 
my little girl been naughty?” 

“Yes, mamma, I have. Reggie and I are 
married.” 

The mother’s expression changed instantly. 
She raised herself from the couch and said: 
“Do you dare to tell me that you and that good- 
for-nothing young painter are married?” 

“Yes, mother, we were married this morn- 
ing,” answered Gertie as she burst into tears. 

The mother’s face turned a ghastly hue and 
she cried: “Thank heaven, Gertrude Owen, 
that your father never lived to see this day. 
It would kill him, and as for me — I never want 
to see your face again.” 

Gertie slowly left the room. Her mother’s 
anger was at a white heat, and shutting herself 
in her room, she refused to see anyone the rest 
of the afternoon. She sent her dinner away 


untasted and spent the night in silence and in 
tears. 

In the morning she went to Gertie’s room, 
only to find it empty. On the bed she found 
this note: 

“Dear Mother — Reggie and I think we can 
take care of ourselves. Don’t worry. 

“Gertie/ - ’ 

Mrs. Owen was broken-hearted, but she 
alone was to blame. She tried to comfort her- 
self with the assurance that she had not really 
turned Gertie out of the house. That she had 
only told her in a moment of anger that she 
never wished to see her face again. She had 
all Gertie’s clothes (for she had taken almost 
nothing with her) packed in two trunks and 
removed to the attic. She then sent for an 
aged maiden sister, Miss Wilson, to come and 


88 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


live with her, and the neighbors never really 
knew what had become of Gertie. 

Mrs. Owen tried in every way to forget her 
great trouble, but all in vain. 

* * * * * * * 

One morning nearly four years later, Mrs. 
Owen was standing at her front gate waiting 
for the postman, when a small boy shouted in 
a shrill voice : “Extra ! Extra !” 

Now, Mrs. Owen hardly ever bought an 
extra, but the flaming headlines, “Frisco De- 
stroyed by Fire and Earthquake” struck her 
with awe, and it was only a few seconds until 
the boy had pocketed a shining nickel and was 
on his way. 

She glanced at the list of dead and spied the 
name “Reggie Adams.” She gave a cry which 
brought her sister to her side. 


AND OTHER STORIES 89 

“O, Reggie is dead. There’s been an earth- 
quake; but no, look for yourself.” 

She handed the paper to her sister, who at 
once noticed the requests for aid of all kinds 
for the homeless thousands. Her sympathy 
went out to the unfortunate ones and she 
dreaded to think of her beautiful niece in the 
midst of it all. 

“Can we send nothing?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” said Mrs. Owen after a mo- 
ment’s thought, “save the trunks with Gertie’s 
dresses. It seems very hard, but she will never 
need them again, and I feel I did wrong, and 
it may help some one ’way out in that West- 
ern garden of flowers.” 

Miss Wilson, with a strange light in her 
eyes, asked if she might look them over and 
strap them. Her request was granted, and be- 
fore the trunks were closed for the last time 


go 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


several notes were strewn through them which 
read as follows : 

“If Mrs. Reggie Adams, formerly Miss Ger- 
tie Owen, sees this she will know that her 
mother has forgiven her and wants her to 
come back.” 

The trunks were soon on their way westward 
to cheer many a weary heart. 

Far out in the stricken city the homeless and 
almost naked people were being fed and 
clothed. Clothes were being given to the 
women first. A tall, beautiful woman was 
waiting for her turn when a man who was 
opening trunks handed a note which he had 
found in one of them to the Chief of Police, 
who, after glancing at it, read in a clear voice : 
“If Mrs. Reggie Adams, formerly Miss Gertie 
Owen, sees this she will know that her mother 


AND OTHER STORIES 


91 


has forgiven her and wants her to come back.” 

“It is one chance in a thousand that she will 
be found at such a time as this, though,” he 
continued. 

The young woman gave a cry of “Mother !” 
and fainted from fright and hunger. 

The Chief watched over her until she had 
recovered and then heard her story. 

“Do you want to go back ?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she whispered, “but the money.” 

“We will get the relief committee to send 
you back,” said a kind-hearted woman. 

The money was given her and one morning 
she returned to her mother’s home, who, of 
course, knew nothing of the notes and was 
greatly surprised. But Gertie, only a shadow 
of her former self, was welcomed with open 
arms and freely forgiven. 















































1 





























































BESSIE HASKINS. 


city’s great lights, 

Oh, I see them afar, 
shining and bright 
Like distant stars. 

c. H. B. 

My parents sent me to Denver to study at 
the University in 1900. After a year’s 
hard study I decided to take a vacation, so I 
went to the country and secured room and 
board at a Farmer Haskins’ house. 

A day or two after my arrival I was start- 
ing for a walk when I heard the sound of an 
old cottage organ. All at once a voice joined 
in with “The city ? s great lights, Ah (softly) I 
see them afar, So shining and bright, Like dis- 
tant stars.” 



93 


94 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Oh,” said I to myself, “is it possible that 
some prima donna lives under the same roof 
with me?” 

I tip-toed to the door and looked in. Seated 
at the little organ I saw a fair young girl not 
more than fourteen or fifteen. I listened un- 
til she had finished, and was about to move 
on when I saw Mrs. Haskins enter. She smiled 
and said: “Bessie, you sang that beautifully. 
I wish Miss Brown could have heard you.” 

“Yes, mother, that’s all right, but if she did 
hear me she would say, as all the others have 
done, ‘Get her a fine master of music and a 
piano,’ or ‘send her to the city,’ and, mother, I 
want to see the city. I want to live in it.” 

“But Bessie,” broke in her mother, “you can- 
not live in a city for many years yet.” 

“I’ll be too old then.” 

The mother walked into the dining room. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


95 


I couldn’t move without her hearing me, but 
fortune was mine. She soon struck up a tune 
on the organ and sang the same verse again. 

* * * * * * * 

I walked quickly through the hall and soon 
found myself in the wide path that led to a 
beautiful meadow. I picked some wild flow- 
ers and walked as far as the river. 

It was nearly supper time when I returned. 
As I took my seat at the table, Bessie came in 
and took the chair directly opposite mine. All 
went well until Bessie asked me to tell her of 
life in the city, but her mother gave me a 
warning glance and I answered her question by 
asking her if it were she I heard singing earlier 
in the day. She said “Yes.” 

I then told her I would like it very much if 
she would sing for me, as I was very fond of 


music. 


96 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


That evening she sang several pieces and I 
praised her truthfully when I said she had a 
remarkable voice. In answer to my question 
if she had taken many lessons, her mother said 
that she had never been fortunate enough to 
secure the services of a good teacher. 

* * * * * * * 

I remained at Haskins’ about three months, 
but time for study and work comes back to the 
day, so one bright morning found me at the 
little station waiting for my train. 

Bessie and her parents were there to bid me 
goodbye. I was sorry to leave the quiet, green 
country place, and when Bessie cried after me, 
“I wish I was going,” I almost wished that she 
was the one who was going back to the noisy, 
stuffy city. 

****** * 

I had been back in the city almost a year 


AND OTHER STORIES 


97 


when one morning I received a letter from Mrs. 
Haskins, which ran as follows : 

“My Dear Miss Brown: 

“Bessie has run away. Maybe she will come 
to you. If she does, wire us at once. A 
heart-broken mother, 

“Mrs. Haskins. 

“Red River.” 

I wrote back that if Bessie did come to me 
I would treat her right, but day after day 
passed and I heard nothing of Bessie, neither 
did I receive an answer to my letter, and I was 
too busy to run down to Red River. 

It was almost Christmas time, and several 
of my classmates had decided to go to the mat- 
inee on the following Saturday, for the paper 
announced, “A wonderful child singer will be 
heard for the first time in Denver.” 

We secured tickets and were in good time 


98 old grumpy’s gold 

for the play. In the second act a child dressed 
as a little Russian beggar came on to sing. 
She had scarcely sung a measure when I started 
to my feet, but remembering where I was, I sat 
down again, for I had recognized the voice of 
Bessie Haskins. 

There were thunders of applause when she 
had concluded, and she responded to it like a 
regular little prima donna. 

After the matinee, I pleaded a headache and 
hurried to my room, leaving my classmates to 
taste some of the other pleasures of which the 
holidays are so full. I threw off my coat and 
hat and sat down to my desk and wrote a tele- 
gram to Mrs. Haskins. It ran : 

“Red River — Mrs. Haskins : Have found 
Bessie, will send full particulars. 

“Miss Brown.” 

I rang up a messenger boy, but upon his ar- 


AND OTHER STORIES 


99 


rival he informed me that Red River could not 
be reached by telegraph that day on account 
of repairs. So I wrote her a long letter, telling 
of the surprise in the theater and the thunders 
of applause which greeted her daughter. I 
sealed it, put on my coat and hat and started 
out to mail my letter, but owing to some 
strange coincidence, I passed the letter box and, 
strange as it may seem, I returned to my hotel 
with the letter in my hand. 

The clerk told me that a very pretty young 
girl had asked for me, and on finding that I 
was out, said she would be back in a little while. 

I went to my room, took off my wraps, 
opened my desk and put my neglected letter in 
it, resolving that it should be mailed as soon 
as I went out. 

I was sitting before the fire-place thinking of 
the play and Bessie, when suddenly a knock 

LOf C. 


IOO 


OLD GRU M PY’ S GOLD 


awoke me from my day dreaming. I opened 
the door and stood face to face with Bessie 
Haskins. 

“O, Bessie !” I cried, as soon as I recovered 
from my astonishment. “I am so glad you 
have come. ,, 

I drew her in. 

“O, Miss Brown,” cried the poor girl, “I’m 
so homesick; do you think they will let me 
come?” 

“I don’t know, Bessie,” I answered, “but first 
tell me why you ran away.” 

“I don’t know. I wanted to see the city, 
and after I got here I found out I had to work. 
I thought of the stage and my voice backed me 
there. After I got on the stage the manager 
refused to let me write home and I was watched 
so closely that I couldn’t run away. O, Miss 
Brown, many a night I was watched from the 


AND OTHER STORIES 


IOI 


stage door to my own room door, but now 
they think I mean to stay with them, and I can 
go about by myself. Now, what I came here 
today for is to ask you to write home and ask 
them if I can come. O, Miss Brown, if you 
can help me to get home, won’t you write 
them?” 

“Stop, Bessie,” I cried, “I know an excellent 
plan. We will send a phonograph to her with 
directions for using, and send ‘Home, Sweet 
Home,’ and something else.” 

I went to my desk and in a moment had 
written an order for a phonograph. 

“Bessie, I heard you this afternoon.” 

“Were you there? I didn’t see you, but to- 
day I found your calling card on the street and 
I thought it was my only chance.” 

Just then her eye caught the letter. “Ah!” 
she exclaimed, “you have written to mamma.” 


102 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


"Yes,” I answered, "but it is not necessary 
to mail it now.” 

"But how will mamma know?” she asked. 
"She won’t know where I am, even if she does 
hear the phonograph, unless you mail the let- 
ter.” 

"I can run up to Red River for a week, and 
you send the phonograph while I am there. 
I’ll do the rest.” 

"How can I ever thank you ?” she cried. 

"But, my! I have just time for my supper 
before the evening performance, so I must go. 
But here is a ticket ; come tonight and see if I 
do any better than I did this afternoon.” She 
threw a ticket in my lap, and with a kiss was 
gone. 

After she left me I dressed for the theater, 
and as I was locking my desk I threw the let- 
ter in the grate. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


103 


As I walked to the opera house I wondered 
how I could get away from my studies long 
enough to run up to Red River. But when I 
had reached by destination I had formed a plan 
that I felt sure would succeed. 

The play seemed to have a strange fascina- 
tion over me, and when Bessie’s song was fin- 
ished the house echoed with “More, more,” 
and hearty, vigorous applause. She looked at 
me in my box, smiled and disappeared behind 
the scenes. 

* * * * * * * 

The next morning saw me on my way to Red 
River. Mrs. Haskins was delighted to see me, 
and spoke of Bessie. I told her I was sorry, 
and hoped I would be able to lead Bessie home 
some day. I said nothing about having seen 
her, and about three days after my arrival a 
large box arrived. 


104 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Whatever can it be ?” said Mrs. Haskins. 

They opened it and found a phonograph. 

“How do you work these things, and who 
ever could have sent us a phonograph ?” asked 
Mrs. Haskins. 

“The directions are generally attached,” I 
said, with a lump in my throat. 

“Somehow I can’t seem to fix it,” said the 
farmer after a few minutes’ experimenting. 

“Let me try,” I pleaded. 

“Well, you city folks do beat all,” he 
laughed. “Now will it sing?” he asked. 

“No, someone will sing through it.” 

I slowly wound it and soon “Home, Sweet 
Home” was floating through the room. Mrs. 
Haskins listened through the first verse qui- 
etly, but when the second verse started, Mr. 
Haskins said : “It kind-er makes me think of 
Bessie, does it you, ma?” 


AND OTHER STORIES 


105 


“Yes, father, it’s like — ” She stopped. 

“Father, it’s — it’s — Bessie’s voice.” 

They held each other’s hands, and by the end 
of the third, all was silent and their aged heads 
bowed in joy and wonder. 

I arose when it was finished and put the re- 
maining plate in, slowly wound it, and to my 
amazement, “My Mother’s Dear Hands” was 
the result. 

I watched. I icould not trust myself to 
speak. Lower and lower their heads sank. 
At last, Mrs. Haskins slipped on her knees, 
her husband followed her example, and then, 
with the sun streaming in the window, they 
thanked God for the finding of their only child. 
While they prayed, I wiped the tears (unseen, 
of course) from my eyes, and when they had 
finished, I slipped over and whispered : “Can 
she come?” 


io 6 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Yes, she can come,” they said in unison. 

“But we have no piano, just the pesky old 
organ,” said the farmer. 

“Never mind that,” I said, “Bessie is past 
wanting a piano. She has had enough.” 

“Tell us about her,” pleaded the mother. 
“How did you find her? 

“I think she could tell you better than I,” 
but I yielded at last, and finding that I had 
almost three hours till the train started, we 
went out on the vine-covered porch and I told 
her all — finding Bessie, my letter, my failure 
to mail it, Bessie’s call — everything. 

I left on the eight o’clock train and the next 
morning I sent a homesick girl to her mother. 
She had had enough of the city. 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 


rs White sat by her window sew- 
ing rapidly, and when the gate 
clicked she scarcely looked up 
until a knock sounded at the 
door. She called, “Come in.” 

It proved to be her neighbor, Mrs. Loeb, who 
had run in to see if her daughter Bessie’s waist 
was done. 

“Yes,” answered the dressmaker, “it’s fin- 
ished, and I just had to nip and tuck to have 
enough trimming, but I don’t think it will show 
where I pieced it. See?” she added, reaching 
over to the table and picking up the waist. 

Mrs. Loeb examined it carefully and said 
that it was all right, and she thought it very 



107 


io8 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


pretty. Mrs. White picked up a flimsy white 
waist and began to take out the basting threads. 

“Oh, let me do that,” said Mrs. Loeb. “It 
takes so much time to take out these threads 
when one is busy. Law sakes ! but this is 
pretty; who is it for?” 

“It’s for the new girl that moved up in the 
big red house on the hill. She is going to 
graduate, and has this full suit.” 

“Laws! they must have money.” 

“They have,” answered Mrs. White, “and I 
never see the beat of that Lilly Dale, for hav- 
ing a good time. Nothing to do but sing, play, 
ride and everything that’s stylish. And they 
say she can play the pianner and sing good, too. 
Why, she has been going to music college up 
in the city for five years, and now they say she 
knows all about singing and is going into 
grand opera and make five hundred dollars a 
week. Just think o’ that, Mrs. Loeb.” 


AND OTHER STORIES 


109 


“Yes, just think of it,” answered her neigh- 
bor. “Now, there’s your girl, Mrs. White, 
that’s just the best drawer and painter as ever 
was. Now, if you sent her to college and had 
the money to push her, everyone would buy her 
pictures, and then you wouldn’t have to work 
as hard as you do now.” 

“Things have been kind o’ hard since Bert 
died,” acknowledged Mrs. White, “but poor 
Flossie has worked here and there and made 
enough to pay for her brushes and paints, and 
now this afternoon she is down sketching by 
the brook.” 

“Here, all the threads are out,” announced 
Mrs. Loeb as she handed back the beautiful 
creation fit for any bride. 

“Thanks; it’s helped me lots,” said Mrs. 
White, “and as you go home you pick some let- 
tuce and radishes for your supper.” 


no 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


Mrs. Loeb looked at the clock and said, 

“Goodness! four o’clock! I must run home 

and put on the kettle and then 111 run back 

for my lettuce and radishes.” 

* * * * * * * 

Meantime Flossie White sat quietly sketch- 
ing near the brook. She had sketched some 
time when she saw Lilly Dale’s carriage coming 
down the road. 

Suddenly there came a chug, chug, chug 
sound, and a big “White Swan” automobile 
glided by. The horses became fairly mad- 
dened and started down the road. Lilly was 
alone in the carriage and was badly frightened, 
but held on tightly to the reins, and still the 
horses were not checked. It took Flossie but 
a moment to act ; with a bound she was in the 
road; with a jump she clutched the bridle, 
held on firmly, and the frightened steeds were 
soon stopped. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


III 


Lilly jumped out and together they petted 
them until they had quieted down. 

“Now,” said Lilly, “you must get in and 
come home with me, for my father will want to 
see the girl who saved my life.” 

Flossie demurred, but finally consented and 
got into the carriage and knew for the first 
time how it felt to sink into the soft cushions. 
She laid her sketch in her lap and leaned jher 
head back. 

“You are frightened,” said Lilly. 

“Yes, I am, a little; it happened all so 
quickly.” 

“It was a very narrow escape, and just be- 
fore my graduation, too,” said Lilly. “Oh, 
you brave girl ! But I am ashamed I have not 
even asked your name.” 


“Flossie White,” answered the girl. 


1 12 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Oh, it’s your mother, then, who is making 
my graduation dress.” 

“Yes, mamma is making it, and I think it 
will be beautiful. Everyone who sees it ad- 
mires it so much.” 

By this time they had reached the Dale home, 
and after Lilly had given the horses into the 
care of the stable boy she hastened to the house, 
followed by Flossie. After introducing her 
friend to her mother and father she related 
their experience. 

Mr. Dale looked kindly at Flossie and said : 
“Allow me to thank you for saving my child’s 
life. You are a very brave girl, and her 
mother and myself agree that it is only right 
to repay you as much as possible. Now, 
would you like to go to college, or something 
of that sort? Do you care for music?” 

“No,” answered Flossie, “I do not care par- 


AND OTHER STORIES 113 

ticularly for music. I care more for drawing 
and painting.” 

“And she can sketch beautifully,” put in 
Lilly. “Where is the sketch you were just 
finishing when you stopped the horses?” 

She handed Lilly the sketch. 

“See, papa,” she exclaimed, drawing her 
chair closer to his. 

“Oh! this is indeed excellent,” he remarked 
after a brief examination of it. “Miss White, 
you have great talent in this line, and I am sure 
that if you have half a chance you will be very 
successful, and Mildred,” he continued, turn- 
ing to his wife, “you know that we have been 
wanting to have Lilly’s picture painted life- 
size in her graduation dress. Now, I think 
that Miss White could do this very well.” 

Mrs. Dale said for him to suit himself; as 
for her, she was sure the picture would be good 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


1 14 

i f that sketch was a sample of her work. 

It was now growing dark, and Flossie said 
she felt sure that her mother would worry if 
she did not return soon. At this Mr. Dale 
took his hat and said that he would see her 
safely home and tell her mother of her bravery. 

Mrs. White was a little worried about Flos- 
sie, but knew that it was something serious that 
kept her from coming in at the usual hour. 
When she saw Flossie and Mr. Dale coming 
up the walk, she scarcely knew what to think, 
but she soon heard the story and looked very 
proud of her brave daughter. 

As soon as Mr. Dale had gone Flossie told 
her mother of the expected picture. Mrs. 
White was very glad, for now she knew her tal- 
ented daughter would have a start, and both 
went to bed very happy. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


115 

Next morning early, Lilly Dale arrived at 
White’s. She saw her dress and was very 
much pleased with it. 

“And, you know, Mrs. White,” she said, 
“Flossie is to sketch my picture in that dress, 
and I want to keep it very nice for the sittings. 
Papa only this morning gave instructions to a 
carpenter for a small summer house to be used 
for the sittings, and Flossie may leave all her 
materials there, for they will be quite safe.” 

“You are very kind, Lilly, and I hope your 
picture and your dress will both suit you.” 

“I am quite sure they will. But there ! Flos- 
sie and I have finished shelling this pan of peas, 
and I really must go. Flossie, come up the 
road with me a little; I have a secret to tell 
you.” She laughed as she threw her light 
morning hat on her pretty head. 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


116 

“You’d make a pretty picture that way, 
Lilly,” laughed Mrs. White. 

“Would I? Well, I’ll see about it,” and 
with that the girls ran out, slammed the door 
after them and were soon lost from sight 
among the trees. 

* * * * * * * 

“Now,” said Lilly, “the secret is just this. 
Papa is going to send you to college for a year. 
I am going back next month, and you are to go 
with me, and after I graduate you will stay 
and study art and painting, just as I studied 
music. Now this will give us time for the 
picture and time for you to get ready. Now, 
Miss, my secret is out, so run home and tell 
your mother before you forget it,” and before 
Flossie could reply, Lilly gave her a hug and a 
kiss and was gone. 

******* 


AND OTHER STORIES II7 

When Mrs. White heard this wonderful 
news her joy knew no bounds, and when Flos- 
sie’s sole regret was a whole year from her 
mother, the latter said that it would soon pass 
and that it was the chance of a lifetime. 

Thus reassured, the plans went on. Dresses 
were made, and the sittings in the cosy little 
summer house proved to be a joyful time to 
both the artist and her model. 

The days flew by and at last the morning 
came that found both girls comfortably seated 
in a train for New York. 

Professor Klane looked out of an upstairs 
window at the sound of carriage wheels and 
said : “That must be Miss Dale and her 
friend, Miss White, who are coming,” and he 
hastened downstairs. 


Il8 OLD grumpy’s gold 

After tfie usual greetings he assigned them 
their room and hurried away. 

Flossie’s bravery was soon the talk of the 
school, so she became a general favorite, and 
was not given time to be lonely after her 
friend’s graduation. 

She made rapid advancement, and as the 
days rolled by began to think of home. At the 
end of the term she was praised greatly for 
her work and given a medal of honor. 

At last the day dawned on which she was to 
return to her mother. Several of the girls 
went down to the train and were really sorry 
to have her go. 

When she arrived at her own station she 
found her mother waiting for her, and ’Squire 
Jones drove them home in his buggy. After 
a lunch, Mrs. White said: “Lilly wants to 


AND OTHER STORIES H9 

see you, Flossie, so I guess you’d better go 
over before it’s dark.” 

“Is she back, mamma?” 

“Yes,” answered Mrs. White, “she has been 
away almost the whole year, and I understand 
she was very successful in grand opera. She 
goes away next week again.” 

Flossie started to clear the table, but her 
mother said : “Hurry over to Dale’s, Flossie, 
for I want to show some of the beautiful 
dresses — the ones I am making for Lilly.” 

Flossie threw on her hat and said : “Very 
well, mother, I’ll not be long. If my trunks 
come have them put in my room and I’ll un- 
pack in the morning.” 

She hurried out and across the field, down 
the lane, and was soon at Lilly’s home. Lilly 
saw her coming and rushed out to meet her, 
hugging her almost to death. Just then the 


120 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


boy came up with the horses, and Flossie was 
fairly lifted into the buggy. 

“What does this mean?” gasped the bewil- 
dered girl. 

“That you are going to be let into another 
secret.” Lilly winked at the boy and away 
they went down the avenue towards Flossie’s 
home. 

“Are you going to take me home already ?” 
laughed Flossie. 

“You just wait and see,’ answered Lilly. 

They stopped before a little new flat-roofed 
building and Flossie was astonished to see 
above the door, “Art Studio. Flossie White.” 
She was hustled inside and found it beautifully 
furnished. She was met by Mr. and Mrs. 
Dale, and Mrs. White, and when Flossie asked, 
“What on earth does this mean, what have I 
done to deserve this?” Mr. Dale said: “You 


AND OTHER STORIES 


121 


saved my child’s life, and I certainly consider 
that something.” 

She then began to investigate, and found a 
charming sitting room, a dressing room and 
the studio which had a glass roof and curtains 
which could be adjusted at will. 

“Now,” said Lilly, “I have one more word 
to say. The picture you painted of me was so 
good that the manager used it to announce 
my appearance at the entrance of the opera 
house. The other girls of the company 
thought it just fine, so there are several who 
want theirs painted by you. So now that you 
have returned, I wish you would mail to each 
address on this slip one of those little announce- 
ment cards which you will find in your desk, 
and then they will know you are ready for busi- 
ness and will appoint the time.” 

“Now, Miss Artist, you have seen all the 


122 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


wonders of the studio, and I intend to carry 
you and your mother over to our house for 
supper. Your mamma knows all about it, so 
you just better come along.” 


MARY ANN. 


ary Ann" — that was her whole 
name, or at least that’s all any- 
one ever took the trouble to call 
her. Her parents were Mr. and 
Mrs. Perkins. “Mary Ann" was the only 
child, and as far as this life goes she had a 
good many advantages. She was only thir- 
teen, small for her age, with red hair and a 
pudgy face; in fact, she was not what you 
would call a beauty, but her mother dressed 
her neatly and she went her way, letting other 
folks go theirs. 

She went to school, but did not mix much 
with the other girls, for she declared that she 
would rather study than play or talk any time. 



123 


124 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


Mrs. Perkins had purchased a piano for 
“Mary Ann” some time before the story opens, 
and by hard work and all her spare moments 
put to practice the little girl had advanced 
(unknown to her friends) very rapidly, and 
had developed a great love of music. 

One morning at school she heard the girls 
talking about a great prima donna who was to 
sing in the big church on Fifth Avenue. 

“And just think,” said one, “she charges $5 
a seat for every seat in the church. Listen, 
girls, and Fll read the piece I cut out of the 
morning’s paper.” 

She read in a clear voice: “Mile Emmons 

will appear at Church on Fifth Avenue, 

October 2nd; the price of the seats is five dol- 
lars, but this is considered cheap when the 
woman’s wonderful voice is taken into consid- 
eration. One critic says: To liken Mile. 


AND OTHER STORIES 12 5 

Emmons’ singing unto the singing of angels is 
the best I can do.’ Another one says : ‘Mile. 
Emmons is the sweetest singer I ever heard/ 
but space is too limited to give this beautiful 
artist all the praise she deserves. Tickets for 
sale at High School.” 

At the conclusion of the reading, all the girls 
chimed in with, “Oh, I wish I could go.” 

That evening “Mary Ann” broached the sub- 
ject to her parents and was told that they 
could afford no such a price for a concert, and 
that even if they could afford it she would have 
no nice dress to wear. 

“Mary Ann” said little, but after she went to 
bed she thought out a plan to suit herself and 
made up her mind to hear that wonderful 
singer. 

Next morning she found that there were only 
two days until the wonderful event. She went 


126 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


around by the High School just to take a peep 
at the folks getting their tickets. There was a 
long line. “Mary Ann” saw Mayor Harris 
put down three five-dollar bills. “That’s for 
Lottie and Mrs. Harris,” she thought. Next 
came the principal of the High School, and 
he threw one five-dollar gold piece down. 
“Just one ticket for himself , the stingy old 
thing,” she muttered. 

She watched several in a like manner, until 
near school time. At noon she took up her 
old place and counted fifteen five-dollar bills 
taken in. 

That evening she forgot her hour’s practice 
(which was quite unusual with her) and ran 
down Fifth Avenue until she came in front of 
the church. 

“Oh, dear!” she cried, “how many times I 
have been in there free, and now you must pay 


AND OTHER STORIES 


127 


five dollars for a single seat, just to hear her 
sing. Why, it looks just the same as it does on 
Sunday, when anyone can get in. She must 
be a fine singer, and I’ll hear her. You just 
see if I don’t. I wonder if I could climb in at 
one of those windows, or if I could slip in past 
the ticket man without being seen, or maybe if 
I told him how I’d like to hear her he’d let 
me in.” 

But the shadows began to darken and she 
hurried home. 

>|c jjs 

Next day she was in a flutter from morning 
till noon, when to soothe her curiosity she went 
again to see the church. This time she saw 
four men lifting a huge piano from a wagon 
and bringing it into the church. 

They were too busy to notice her, and she 
could not resist the temptation to slip in after 


128 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


them. She watched them place the piano, and 
when they started down the aisle, to escape be- 
ing seen she slid down the stairs which led to 
the Sunday School room in the basement. They 
went out. The door clanged, and horrors! 
the janitor had turned the key. 

“Oh! I am locked in; I am locked in!” she 
cried. But no one heard her. She pounded 
on the door, but all was lost in the rumble of 
the big piano wagon as it drove away. 

What should she do? She couldn’t go to 
school, and her mother would be terribly fright- 
ened when she did not come home, but perhaps 
the janitor would come before long and she 
would get out before dark. 

But the weary afternoon dragged on and no 
janitor came. When the dark shadows began 
to flit here and there on the stained glass win- 
dows, she was frightened and remembered the 


AND OTHER STORIES 


I2Q 

poem, “How Jane Conquest Rang the Bell,” 
which she had heard recited at an entertainment 
a few nights before. 

She groped her way to the door which led to 
the little belfry stairs, but it was locked. She 
threw herself down on the soft carpet and felt 
very much like crying, but suddenly she re- 
membered that this was the very chance that 
she had been longing for, to hear the great 
singer. 

“No one knows that I am here,” she said, 
“and I'll just hide. Now, those men brought 
in the piano, so I’m sure they won’t use the 
organ, and I’ll just hide there.” 

She felt her way along the aisle, down the 
stairs and into the Sunday School room. She 
found a small chair, and after groping her way 
back to the organ, she fixed the little chair back 
of it. “I’ll just wait here till they come,” she 


130 


OLD GRU MPY’S GOLD 


said. But the time dragged wearily on, and 
very soon she found herself yawning. 

‘Til just lay down on the carpet,” she said. 
She lay down and very soon was in the land of 
nod. She dreamed away. She did not hear 
the janitor return and light up the church. 
She did not hear the prima donna express her 
approval of all the preparations, nor the church 
quickly fill, but soon a most beautiful voice 
glided out. She awoke with a start. Was 
that the great singer? No, she was sure it 
was an angel. She held her breath. Song 
after song was heard in that same glorious 
voice. 

At last it seemed all over. She heard the 
people filing out. She started to go, but that 
horrid janitor was standing right on the plat- 
form talking to the minister. 

“Yes,” the janitor was saying, “I wish you 


AND OTHER STORIES 


131 


would come down in the basement and look at 
it, Dr. Bye, for I think it’s a pretty bad leak.” 

With that they turned and were soon heard 
descending the basement stairs. Now was her 
chance. Grabbing her hat, she ran down the 
aisle and out. She saw a policeman near the 
door and heard him say: “The little girl has 
been missing since noon. 

“Oh,” thought Mary Ann, “he’s after me.” 
The thought was awful, and with a dash she 
was down the street, never stopping until she 
found herself safe in her own hall. 

“Thank heaven, you have come, Mary Ann,” 
cried her mother, fairly smothering her with 
kisses. 

“Yes,” said her father, “and I’ll notify the 
police that you are safe. But where on earth 
have you been?” 

“Oh, mamma and papa, I got locked in the 


132 OLD GRUMPY'S GOLD 

church at noon, so I thought I might just as 
well stay (for I couldn’t get out) and hear that 
great singer, and mamma, she was — she was 
just grand.” 


HEARTEASE. 


essie Kent was sitting on the vine- 
covered porch of her country 
home. She had a pan of peas 
waiting to be shelled, but she 
was talking to her mother’s best paying 
boarder, Miss Nina Grant, a beautiful girl who 
was spending the summer in the country. Miss 
Grant had stated she wished to rest up after 
an awful winter of society, but Dame Rumor 
said it was a severe case of heart trouble that 
caused her to come out into the green country. 
Not an ordinary case of heart trouble, for it 
was caused by a quarrel between her and her 
lover, Dr. Logan Mellison, who was a smart 
young fellow and one who would make his 



1 33 


134 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


mark in this world. But they had had a fool- 
ish little quarrel and Nina was stricken with a 
dreadful attack of heart trouble, and society 
columns told of her being hurried away to a 
quiet country place. She had been there about 
a week, when one sunny morning, as I have 
said, she and Bessie Kent were talking on the 
pleasant porch. 

'‘Yes,” Bessie was saying, “I think the coun- 
try is just fine, and I know if you stay here a 
month or two you will be all right.” 

“Oh,” chimed in Nina, “I just feel fine this 
morning, and I believe I could race you across 
that field.” 

Bessie looked surprised, but merely said: 
“I wouldn’t advise running for heart trouble.” 

Nina blushed, and said : “Neither would I, 
but I do feel fine this morning.” 


AND OTHER STORIES 


135 


“Bessie !” called the mother, “hurry up with 
those peas.” 

Bessie started to shell them again, but as 
soon as she saw her chum, Nellie Wyman, com- 
ing down the path, the peas were forgotten for 
gossip. 

After she was introduced to Nina, she ex- 
claimed: “Well, Bessie, I don’t think I’ll be 
an old maid now, because we’ve got the new 
doctor at our house. I drove him up from 
the depot and we’re chummy already.” 

“Oh, tell us about him,” cried both girls; 
“and what’s his name? and where is Dr. Moore 
gone?” asked Bessie. 

“Well, girls, it’s just this way: Dr. Moore 
has gone to California, and this young fellow, 
I can’t think of his name (it’s such a funny 
one), well, he was going to marry a lovely girl 
down in the city, but something happened and 


136 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


they quarreled and, Bessie, he's just broken- 
hearted. He is, honest. He said he couldn't 
stay where he could see her every day, so when 
he heard of Dr. Moore he just jumped at the 
offer, so he’s here and just as handsome as can 
be, but goodness! I must be going; you come 
over and see me before you go, won’t you, Miss 
Grant?” 

But Bessie quickly answered for her: “She 
doesn’t go out much, for she is not well.” 

“Oh, is that so/’ said Nellie thoughtfully. 

“Yes, she has heart trouble.” 

“Well, Miss Grant, you should see our new 
doctor ; he could mend any kind of hearts and 
set them beating after they stop, too, I believe,” 
and calling out a merry good-bye, she was 
gone. 

“Bessie, are the peas done?” called Mrs. 
Kent. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


137 


“Almost, mother/' she answered, then 
quickly finished them and hurried into the 
house. While she was gone, a carriage came 
up the road. Nina’s heart leaped. Could it 
be? Yes, it was. 

There was Nellie Wyman and Dr. Mellison 
in the buggy. 

So this was the new doctor that Nellie said 
was so handsome and that she would get him. 

“Oh, what shall I do ?” moaned Nina. Nel- 
lie will never get him. Why, he probably 
thinks I am mad at him.” 

She was concealed by the vines, and the 
young doctor drove by, little dreaming that 
the Nina of his heart was near. 

By the time Bessie returned, she had formed 
a plan of her own. She leaned her head back. 
Then she asked Bessie for a drink. 

“Are you ill, Miss Grant?” 


138 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Oh, it’s my heart; it’s fluttering awful.” 
Then a feeble little moan escaped her, followed 
by another and another, each a little louder than 
the last. 

“You felt pretty well this morning, didn’t 
you?” asked Mrs. Kent. 

“Oh, yes ; it came on very suddenly.” 

Mrs. Kent became alarmed, and as she helped 
her into the house she told Bessie to go for 
Dr. Moore. 

“But, mother,” said Bessie, “you know Dr. 
Moore is gone aWay, but there is a new doctor 
staying over to Nellie’s house.” 

“Go for him, then.” 

Mrs. Kent gently laid Nina on a couch and 
was fanning her when Bessie returned with 
the doctor. They withdrew, leaving doctor 
and patient alone. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


139 


“Why, Nina, are you here, and so ill? Why, 
that girl said you were almost dying.” 

“I am dying, Logan; it’s my heart.” 

“But how did you get here?” 

“Came, of course,” answered the doctor 
sharply. “But now to business.” After an 
examination of that organ, a smile quivered on 
the doctor’s lips. “Well, Nina,” he said, 
“you’re pretty bad off. I’ll leave you some 
powders (he rapidly counted out the powders) ; 
“take one every four hours.” 

He turned to go, but a little sob called him 
back. 

“Oh, Logan (bravely swallowing a powder), 
my he-heart!” 

“Nina, you are a fraud.” 

“I — I know it, Logan, but is my heart very 
bad?” 

“Do you think it is, Nina?” he asked with a 


140 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


smile. He came closer. She sat up; he slid 
silently onto the sofa by her side, and very 
soon his arm was around her waist and her 
head was on his shoulder. 

“When can I go home, doctor?” she mused. 

“When I do, Nina, and your heart is so bad 
that you will need me to care for you always.” 

He rose to go and was met at the door by 
Bessie and Mrs. Kent, who inquired : “How 
does she seem now?” 

“A little better, thank you,” answered Nina. 
“His powders helped me so quickly.” 

Then came a few more visits, and one bright 
morning finds Nina and the doctor on the train 
which would soon steam toward the city. 

* * * * * * * 

A few days later Mrs. Kent, Bessie and Nel- 
lie Wyman were reading an account of the 


AND OTHER STORIES 


141 

marriage of Dr. Logan Mellison and beautiful 
Nina Grant. 

“Well,” said Nellie sadly, “I’ve lost him for- 
ever. I am sure I’ll be an old maid now.” So, 
amid laughter and jests, she darted down the 
path. 


PINE AIR CASTLE. 



ar up among Colorado’s show- 
capped mountains stands a cabin. 
It is called “Lone Point,” for as 
far as the eye can reach no other 


cabin can be seen.. Nothing but hills and sky. 

The traveler, when he spies it out, murmurs, 
“A lunger’s camp-out.” But no, for once he 
is wrong. It is a woman who lives in this far- 
away cabin. A woman and a little child. 

Five years before our story opens, Ellen 
Blunt married Jack Semer, a prospector, and 
they moved to the gold-lined Rockies of Colo- 
rado. 

For nearly three years everything went well. 
She was contented, her cabin cozy and warm, 


i43 



144 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


her husband kind and her baby, which was now 
two years old, was company for her when her 
husband was away at the mine. 

Every morning he would mount a slow but 
sure-footed “burro” and take the trail for the 
mine, returning about dusk. 

It was the same, day after day and week 
after week, but he was cheery and happy in 
the thought that he would be rich some day. 

Jack finally owned nearly one-third interest 
in the mine, and one night he laughingly said 
that a snowslide might carry him off, so he had 
better make over his interest to his wife. 

She protested, but he insisted and won out. 
Ellen never feared the loneliness of the great 
place. She was used to it, and had grown to 
love it, and the baby thrived in “Pine Air Cas- 
tle,” as they laughingly named their mountain 
home. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


145 


One night the snow fell heavily. Ellen, 
Jack and the baby listened to the howling of the 
wind and drew closer to the fire. 

“Bad storm/’ said Jack. 

“Yes,” answered Ellen, “you’d better hang 
out the lantern, so if anyone should come up 
the tow-path they could see it and come in to 
get warm.” 

Jack did so, and as he opened the door a 
fierce breath of wind chilled the room. 

“I pity any creature out tonight,” sighed 
Ellen. 

Jack was glad to return to the fire, and Ellen 
made the baby comfortable for the night. 

Ellen and Jack sat looking into the fire, lis- 
tening to the storm and praying that all hu- 
manity in that region were under shelter. 

Suddenly a cry of “Help !” was heard. They 


I46 OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 

listened. It came again. Jack jumped up as 
though to go out. 

“Don’t go , Jack.” 

“I must , Ellen ; ’tis a man or woman, and I 
must save them. I won’t be long.” 

He quickly wrapped himself warmly and 
went out, lantern in hand, toward the gulch 
from which the cries came. 

***** * * 

Ellen waited, but he came not. 

The night went on. She dared not leave the 
baby alone and go out to search for him. 

The morning light streaked the eastern skies. 

Ellen, pale and haggard, still waited. 

In the early morning she spied a man on a 
burro picking his way to the mine. 

She halloed until he turned and came toward 
the cabin. 

When he had heard her tale, he said : “Ah, 


AND OTHER STORIES 


147 


ma’am, thar’s but little doubt but what he’s 
gone up in the slide. I’ll report it at the mine, 
though. Good-day, Ma’am.” 

Ellen sat alone until late in the afternoon, 
when the mine superintendent wended his way 
up to “Pine Air Castle.” 

After asking questions and offering his sym- 
pathy, he came bluntly to the point. “Wall, 
Mrs. Semer, I suppose Jack left his interests to 
you?” 

“Yes, he did,” answered Mrs. Semer. 

“And I suppose now he’s gone, ye’ll want to 
sell.” 

“No, no,” cried Ellen, “I’ll never, never 
sell.” 

“Yes, but my dear, you can’t live up here all 
alone. It’s foolish.” 

“I will not sell,’ she repeated firmly. “I 


148 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


know my husband is not dead ; I feel it ; I know 
he will come back to me.” 

The superintendent gave a start and said : 
“Well, perhaps you’ll think it over; we’ll pay 
ye a good price if you decide to sell. Good 
day.” 

* * * * * * * 

Days, weeks, months, yes, one year had 
passed and no sign of Jack. 

O, it was a weary, lonely year, but brave 
Ellen would not give up. 

Baby was now three, and just as pretty a lit- 
tle chap as anyone could meet. 

******* 

Time and again the company asked her to 
sell, but the answer was always, “No, no, Jack 
will come back.” 

One day the June sun was high and bright. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


149 


Ellen was standing in the door gazing away, 
away from here, into no where. 

So absorbed was she that she did not notice 
the mine superintendent approaching. 

s 

She had no knowledge of his presence until 
his harsh voice broke out with, “I jest come up 
to tell you, Mrs. Semer, that ye’ll have ter sell. 
I mean business, and — well, if you don’t sell, 
I’ll make you, that’s all.” And he pulled an 
ugly looking revolver from his belt. 

“Step in and we will talk it over,” said Ellen, 
perfectly cool. 

They entered. Mr. Shinies sat down at the 
table and said, gruffly : “Now, Ellen, no fool- 
ing. Ye just have to get those papers and sign 
them over.” Again the revolver gleamed in 
the sun, and she brought the papers and put 
them on the table. 


“Sign ’em,” he commanded. 


OLD GRU MPY’S GOLD 


150 

“I can’t,” she moaned. 

“You must!” 

“Hush! you will wake the baby,” she whis- 
pered. 

A wicked light gleamed in his eyes. He 
turned and said : “Sign those papers, or yer 
kid will soon wake up on the other side of the 
stream.” 

Ellen turned deadly pale and shook like a 
leaf. She pulled the cork out of the bottle of 
ink and dipped the pen into it. 

“I can’t.” 

“I’ll give ye five minutes,” answered Sh lines. 

She wrote very slowly : “Mrs. Jack Seme — ” 

As she was forming the “r” a shadow of a 
man fell across the door. He also held a re- 
volver, and aiming it at the mine superintend- 
ent, he said : “Shimes, leave this cabin.” 


AND OTHER STORIES 151 

Shimes turned pale, but lost no time in get- 
ting out. 

“Jack!” screamed Ellen. 

“Yes, it is Jack. How is the baby?” 

“He is asleep, Jack, but tell me where in the 
world have you been ?” 

“I have been kept prisoner at Shimes’ house. 
He wanted to compel you to sell our interest, 
but you didn’t, you brave girl. I knew you 
were holding out, for every night Old Shimes 
would say : ‘When your wife gives in you are 
free.’ Ellen, how could you stand this long 
year?” 

“It zms lonesome,” admitted Ellen, “and then 
after all my waiting, I only missed it by an 

<j. i a 

“My brave little one; a few more days and 
we can leave ‘Pine Air Castle,’ for I saw in a 
paper at Shimes’ yesterday (and that’s what 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


152 

made me make a last desperate effort to escape) 
that my father has just died and left me his 
sole heir.” 

“Oh, Jack! I am sorry your father is dead. 
I am glad for the money, but with you and 
baby I could live forever in ‘Pine Air Castle.’ ” 


CADY’S TELEPHONE. 


armer Cady was looking over 
his morning paper while his good 
wife hurried up the breakfast. 
As he carefully perused the pages 
he noticed this advertisement : “Are you up to 
date? If so, get a residence ’phone in at once.” 

He read on and did not give much thought 
to it until he saw another one which read : 
“Residence ’phones are just the thing to call the 
doctor, the policeman, in fact, anyone at any 
time. You’re not safe without one.” 

This did interest him, and he called to his 
wife : “Oh, Ma ; d’ye think it would be wise to 
get one of these residence ’phones?” 

“Why, pa, what ever put that notion in yer 



iS3 


154 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


head ?” she exclaimed, pausing long enough in 
her cooking to give him a look of contempt. 

“Well,” he answered, “the paper speaks 
mighty high of ’em, and says we’re not safe 
without one, and ye can call up the doctor 
whenever ye want.” 

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t do much good to 
call up Dr. Brown, for he’s as deaf as any- 
thing.” 

But her husband was not abashed. 

“Well,” he answered, '“ye might need a 
policeman some time.” 

“I reckon we ain’t bothered much with po- 
liceman out here,” she exclaimed as she set a 
large plate of hot cakes on the table and told 
him to commence his breakfast. 

The subject was not alluded to again until 
near dinner time, when Mira saw her husband 


AND OTHER STORIES 


155 


sitting under an apple tree laboriously writing 
a letter. 

“Well, what ye up to now?” she called. 

“I am just writin’ to them telyphone folks 
and telling them I want to know all about them 
bloomin’ machines.” 

“Oh, pshaw ! Cady, ye’re simply daft on these 
new-fangled things. Law sakes! how things 
have changed since I was a girl. We’d never 
think to look at one of them telephones in them 
days, not much.” 

“Folks are a heap smarter now-a-days, 
Mira,” he sighed. 

But she only gave her sunbonnet a swish, 
and hurried into the house, not deigning to 
answer his last remark. 

He sent his letter, and after several days a 
dapper young gentleman appeared at the little 


156 


OLD GRU M PY S GOLD 


farm house and explained that he was a repre- 
sentative of the telephone company. 

Mira totally ignored him, but her husband 
asked him question after question. The young 
man played his card well, and before he left, 
Mr. Cady had signed a contract for a residence 
’phone. 

In a short time the ’phone was placed and 
Farmer Cady was instructed how to use it, and 
advised as to the dark mysteries of the same 
machine. 

After the men had left, he had reason to call 
up Mr. Jones, a butcher. 

Now Farmer Cady merely told Central to 
give him “Mr. Jones.” 

Very soon came “Hello.” “How de do,” 
answered Farmer Cady. “Is this Mr. Jones?” 

“Yes, sir.” 


“Well, this is Farmer Cady.” 


AND OTHER STORIES 


157 


“Who?” 

“Farmer Cady. Don’t you know him? 
Why, Jones, it’s me; it’s Farmer Cady.” 

“Well, what’s wanted; who’s dead?” 

“Dead?” 

“Yes, this is Jones, the undertaker.” 

“Oh! by John Brown!” he exclaimed, and 
quickly hung up the receiver. 

His wife looked puzzled. 

“Try again,” she said. 

He called again for “Jones,” and got the 
printer. He begged Central to give him the 
“Butcher Jones,” with the result that he got 
the hair dresser, then the druggist, and to cap 
the climax, he was informed that was talking 
to the Chiropodist Jones. 

“What the deuce is that?” yelled Cady. 

“It’s a chiropodist ” repeated someone over 
the wires. 


158 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Well, by gum, that’s one on me.” 

By this time the sweat stood on his brow 
like dew on the grass in the morning, and 
Central was getting cross over so many calls. 

Mrs. Cady then said that she was going into 
town in the morning, and she would call him 
up and see if she had any better success than 
he had. 

When she went next day she stopped at a 
drug store and was granted the use of the 
’phone. She gave the number, and soon her 
beloved’s voice called out : “Is that ye, Mira ?” 

She was about to answer when a terrific crash 
was heard, in which an awful yell from Farmer 
Cady was mingled. She called again, but no 
answer. She raised her voice to almost a 
scream, but all remained silent. 

She was very much frightened, and hasten- 
ing home as soon as her shopping was attended 


AND OTHER STORIES 


159 


to, found her better half calmly enclosing the 
’phone in a box he had made for the purpose. 

“What on airth are ye doin?” 

But he solemnly said : “Mira, I’m surprised 
at ye; we’ve been married forty years, and ye 
hain’t never tried to assassinate me before, and 
if ye did want to get rid of me, ye didn’t have 
to do it the way ye did.” 

Mira was shocked, but her husband went on 
with his work until the ’phone looked like a 
small box on the wall. 

“Why didn’t ye have it taken out?” 

“Not by a blamed sight. I wanted a tely- 
phone, and I got it, an’ Mira, ye ain’t goin’ to 
try to assassinate me any more, be ye?” 

* * * * * * * 

But just at that moment the chore boy came 
in and told them that the lightning had struck 


i6o 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


some telephone wires near by and that the men 
were fixing them right away. 

Mira knew then what the crash had been, 
but her husband could not see the point. 


RABBI. 


xtra ! Extra !” shouted several 
lusty newsboys. 

Many people paused long 
enough to catch a glimpse of the 
headlines instead of buying a paper. 

Others quickly drew out their nickel, grasped 
the paper, boarded a moving car and were gone. 

One tall, handsome man paused on hearing 
the cry and called a little lad to him. The 
child would have been noticed anywhere. He 
was spotlessly clean, the possessor of bright 
eyes, an honest face and a mass of reddish 
brown hair. 

“Extra, sir?” he cried on coming up to the 
stranger. 

161 



OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


l 62 

“Yes, son, what is it?” 

But the reply was lost among the clanging 
street car gongs. 

“I don’t believe I have the change, son,” he 
added as he pulled out a five-dollar bill, “so I 
guess I won’t have the extra this time.” He 
turned to go, but the disappointed look in the 
child’s eyes made him think again. 

“I tell you what, son; you get this changed 
and bring it up to Dr. Miles in the Sloan build- 
ing; room 300.” 

The little chap’s face changed instantly, and 
giving him the paper and a hurried “thank 
you,” he ran for the nearest drug store. 

The great Dr. Miles had taken everything 
in. He had noticed that the child’s shoes were 
very bright, that his hair was brushed until it 
glistened in the sun, and as he walked slowly 


AND OTHER STORIES 


163 


to his office he could not have told what caused 
his unusual interest in the little street urchin. 

“He’s a nice little chap,” he said to himself, 
“and I’ll find out more about him when he 
brings up the change.” 

Then a dark thought crossed his mind. “Sup- 
pose he didn’t bring back the change?” But 
this went away as quickly as it came when he 
remembered the lad’s honest eyes. 

On entering his office he found to his great 
relief that no one was waiting, for he wanted 
a few minutes to himself; a few minutes of 
rest and quiet. 

******* 

Rabbi, the little newsy, had procured the 
change and was hurrying to the address. As 
he stepped from the elevator his quick eye saw 
the sign: 


164 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


Dr. G. L. Miles 
Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat 


Rabbi gazed earnestly at the sign. 

“Why, that’s the great eye doctor,” he mur- 
mured. “I wonder if he could cure mamma?” 
and his own blue eyes filled with tears as he 
thought of his dear blind mother. 

“O, if I could only earn enough money to 
get him to cure her eyes.” 

As he entered the room the doctor looked up 
and said : “Well, my boy, did you have any 
trouble getting the change?” 

“No, sir, and I hope I did not keep you wait- 
ing long for it. Here it is, $4.95.” 

“Thats right, my boy. Do you sell papers 
all the time ?” 


“Yes, sir, since my father died.” 


AND OTHER STORIES 


165 

“Is your mother living ?” 

“Yes, sir, but she 'can’t work.” 

“Is she ill?” asked the doctor kindly. 

“Well, no, sir, she’s — she’s — blind ” 

“Poor child! And you are trying to keep 
her by selling papers ? What’s your name, lit- 
tle man, and where do you live?” 

“My name is Rabbi Miller, and mamma and 

I live in rooms at 623 L avenue. I am 

almost 8 years old, and mamma says if she 
could see I could go to school.” 

The doctor wrote down the address and 
asked : “Has any doctor seen your mother 
and told her that her eyes could never be 
cured ?” 

“No, sir; they charge such a lot that we can’t 
have them.” 

“Nevertheless, my boy, I am coming to see 


1 66 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


your mamma in the morning ,&nd see what I 
can do for her.” 

“Won’t it cost a heap?” asked Rabbi. 

“Never mind that, my child; but there is a 
patient waiting, so you must go now, and tell 
mamma I will be over in the morning. Good- 
bye, Rabbi.” 

Dr. Miles called, and after an examination 
said that an operation would restore her sight. 

It was performed and was attended by suc- 
cess, for when after several days the bandages 
were removed, she could see. 

The doctor received thanks and tears of grat- 
itude, and felt repaid for his trouble. 

As time went on, Christmas drew near. 

Mrs. Miller asked Rabbi what he would like 
for Christmas. He laughed and said he had 


AND OTHER STORIES 


167 


his Christmas present already, for all he wanted 
was his mother’s sight restored. 

She smiled a strange smile and said: “My 
little Rabbi will have a very beautiful present 
this year.” 

And he did. 

Christmas Eve came, and so did Dr. Miles, 
and little Rabbi was overjoyed when his mother 
said : “Rabbi, this is your present — a new 
papa,” and the doctor forgot his professional 
dignity long enough to catch Rabbi up, put him 
on his shoulder and dance around the room. 








































































































# 





































THE SIGN OF THE CROSS. 


amma,” called twelve-year-old 
Ellen Blair, “I don’t believe An- 
nie is coming, so may I run over 
to the fire station and watch the 
horses a little while?” 

Mrs. Blair looked up from her mending and 
answered: “Yes, Ellen, you may go. Why, 
there is Hettie Ramsey passing; perhaps she 
would go with you.” 

“O, I forgot, mamma, Hettie’s father was 
transferred to this station last week. That’s 
just where [She is going, and if I hurry I can 
catch up with her.” 

Ellen threw on her hat and was soon running 
169 



170 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


down the quiet street calling : “Hettie, Hettie,” 
in her shrill, childish voice. 

Hettie turned, and seeing who it was, waited 
until her little friend came up. 

“Where were you going, Ellen?” she asked. 

“I was going over to the station to watch 
the horses.” 

“So was I,” said Hettie. “You know papa 
is at this station now. I hope an alarm wijl 
come in while we are there. I just love to see 
them start off, don’t you? Why, wasn’t that 
the bell ? Let’s run and see.” 

The children ran quickly across the square 
and soon entered the station. Several firemen 
were sitting around the door, and nodded pleas- 
antly as the little girls passed them. They 
found Mr. Ramsey, and after petting the horses 
and talking a few minutes, an alarm came in. 

In a second the horses were out, the men in 


AND OTHER STORIES 


171 

their places, the heavy doors swung to, and 
away they dashed. 

“I think they do it quicker all the time,” 
said Ellen, almost breathless with excitement. 

The station was almost deserted, and as the 
children wandered around, Ellen found a piece 
of white chalk. 

“I want it for my blackboard when I play 
school,” she explained to Hettie when she 
showed it to her. 

At last the firemen returned and the horses 
were very warm and breathing hard after a 
long run. The men were also very warm 
and appeared to be angry. 

“Bad blaze, boys?” asked one who had re- 
mained on duty at the station. 

“Blaze nothing,” answered one, “false 
alarm.” 


“Pshaw!” where was it?” 


172 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Second and B street,” answered an- 

other, wiping the sweat from his face. 

“I wish,” put in Mr. Ramsey, fanning him- 
self with a newspaper, “that there was some 
way of catching those people who are mean 
enough to turn in a false alarm.” 

“Yes, it’s not so much for ourselves that we 
kick ; we have it easy compared to the horses.” 

“I say, boys,” called one, “let’s rub them 
down. It was a bad run on such a sweltering 
day.” And while the men gently stroked and 
sponged the beautiful beasts, Hettie and Ellen 
slipped away. 

“O, Ellen,” said Hettie, “don’t you wish we 
could catch a ‘false alarmer?’ Just see how 
angry papa is, and those poor horses, they had 
to run so fast just for nothing. Can’t we catch 
one all by ourselves ? It will be lots of money 


AND OTHER STORIES 


173 


for us. I don’t want the money, but I do want 
the false alarmer, and I am going to get one, 
too.” 

“It’s so warm,” complained Ellen, “let’s go 
over and sit in Miss Miller’s garden. She 
won’t care.” 

The children crawled through a hole in the 
fence and were soon seated on the velvet grass 
back of a hedge. They were each contenting 
themselves with their own thoughts or a sort of 
day-dreaming. 

Suddenly the sound of voices fell on their 
ears and awoke them with a start. 

“Yes,” said one, “I was mean, I admit, but 
I just love to see the horses run.” 

Hettie made a motion to Ellen to be very 
quiet, and the conversation went on. 

“And I mean to pull the box on L street 

now.” 


174 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Oh! don’t, Harry, you have done enough 
for one day,” replied another voice. 

“Well, I’ll give them time to cool off, and 
then for some more fun.” 

The speaker drew nearer and presently the 
girls knew that only the hedge divided them 
from the false alarmers. 

The youths threw themselves on the cool 
grass and carelessly threw their hats over the 
hedge. 

Quick as a wink Ellen leaned over and drew 
a cross with her chalk in each hat. 

She then motioned for Hettie to follow her, 
and they crept on their hands and feet until they 
had cleared the hole in the wall, where they 
paused only long enough to catch their breath. 

5j« i}j Jfc 5|« >Jc j|« 

As the grass was very comfortable, and as 
just the faintest suspicion of a breeze fanned 


AND OT-HER STORIES 


175 


their faces, the lads were soon stretched full 
length on the velvet couch, therefore it was 
some time before they went in search of the 
hats they had so carelessly thrown over the 
hedge. And when they did find them, they 
failed to observe the chalk cross in each. 

Meantime the girls hastened back to the sta- 
tion and told Mr. Ramsey all. He in turn 
told a policeman, who immediately searched 
Miss Miller’s garden (much to that good lady’s 
great displeasure), but found nothing. 

The second alarm did not come, but later in 
the evening, as Policeman Canter was crossing 
the square he noticed two young men coming 
toward him. 

Just then a sudden gust of wind blew off 
both their hats. They rolled against the police- 
man, and he quickly picked them up. He was 


176 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


about to hand them to their owners when his 
eye caught the chalk mark in each. Knowing 
of the girls’ afternoon adventure, he recog- 
nized the lads at once and said : “I am sorry, 
young gentlemen, but it seems you have ‘The 
Sign of the Cross’ in each of your hats, and ac- 
cordingly you are wanted at the fire station. 
Come, you are under arrest.” He then showed 
them the marked hats. 

They were taken to the station, and after a 
long talk with the chief they were released, 
and there were no fire alarms for a long time, 
for the children’s fame spread, and everyone 
remembered “The Sign of the Cross.” 


CLUSTER’S DISMISSAL. 


he little town of Cluster was a 
rather sleepy place, although it 
boasted of two churches, two 
schools, one doctor, an under- 
taker and a postoffice and store combined. 

Mr. J. E. Reynolds was the pastor of the 
“First church.” He was a very old man and 
would soon celebrate the fifty-second anniver- 
sary of his pastorate. At the same time he 
would celebrate his 8oth birthday, having taken 
the church on his 28th birthday. 

Now, Cluster was getting tired of the old 
man, and they hated to tell him so. Several 
deacons had talked together and had at last 
decided on a course. 



1 77 



178 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


The day for the celebration arrived. All 
the members of the congregation flocked in on 
him and gave him a genuine surprise. 

He received many presents, but the one which 
Deacon Smith presented to him, he was re- 
quested not to open until all of his guests had 
departed. The evening was spent merrily, and 
at length the house resounded with the last 
laugh and the sound of the last footstep had 
died away. The pastor looked over his gifts 
and gave thanks for each and all of them. 

At last he walked to the table and picked up 
the package which Deacon Smith had left. 

“It looks like a shoe box,” he mused. 

He removed the wrapping and found a lot 
of soft tissue paper. He removed the same 
soft substance until at length near the bottom 
of the box he found a small purse. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


179 


“Ah ! bless their hearts/’ he murmured, “they 
gave even gotten up a purse for me.” 

He opened it, but instead of money he pulled 
forth a piece of folded note paper. 

He opened this and read : 

“Dear Dr. Reynolds : This is to inform you 
that your services as pastor of the First church 
are no longer needed. Rev. M. Hall, a young 
minister, has been engaged to succeed you. 
The church regrets that this change is neces- 
sary, but the old must move on to make room 
for the young. 

“Deacon Smith, 
“Deacon Jones, 
“Deacon Harper.” 

The old man read it again. It must be some 
dreadful mistake. But no, the deacon had 
asked him not to open it until he was alone. 

Ah ! they wanted to get rid of him, but they 


180 old grumpy’s gold 

were cowards when it came time to tell him to 
go. The underhanded, sneaking, crawling 
way in which they had told him was more than 
he could bear. That was why they had come, 
and not because of the good feeling they had 
for him. They cared nothing for his celebra- 
tion save as a tool for imparting desired infor- 
mation. 

His aged head sank on the table, the night 
wore on, and in the morning Cluster learned 
that Dr. Reynolds had gone where the old 
don’t have to move on to make room for the 
young, and where no one is ever too old to do 
right and preach the word of truth and purity. 


PRINCESS ZOA’S SECRET. 


Note — The author acknowledges and appreciates the 
kindness of The Denver Times Magazine and Indus- 
trial School Magazine for the permission to reprint the 
story “Princess Zoa’s Secret,” which appeared in both 
magazines under the name of Clarice Le Fountaine. 

ld King Meere of Lynzinia (a 
kingdom of by-gone days) had 
a very beautiful daughter, whose 
name was Princess Zoa. Her 
mother died when she was quite small, but her 
father loved and cherished her all the more ten- 
derly. She was known throughout the world 
for her beautiful hair, which was like pure 
gold, and when the sun shone on it the effect 
was dazzling. Of course, such a beautiful girl 
could not escape having suitors. One of these 



181 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


182 

was Prince Gregoire, who was a valiant youth 
and whom Zoa loved very much. Another was 
a small, dwarfish man, called Prince Felix, who 
was feared very much by Zoa and her father. 
When the betrothal of Prince Gregoire and 
Princess Zoa was announced at the court Prince 
Felix was enraged and furious. 

“I will have her yet, even if I have to use 
desperate means,” said he. And then he called 
his waiting man and said : “Who is Princess 
Zoa’s waiting maid?” 

“It is Suzann, my lord.” 

“Does the Princess like her?” 

“Well, my lord, I cannot say as to that, but 
you have no doubt noticed her highness’ beau- 
tiful hair.” 

“Yes, ’tis the talk of all the world.” 

“Well, my lord, Suzann holds the secret of 


AND OTHER STORIES 


183 


its beauty, and nothing would make the prin- 
cess part with her.” 

“Is she true to her mistress?” 

“No, my lord, she is very ‘shaky,’ as some 
express it, and will do anything for money, I 
hear” :'j j| H 

“That will do, James, you may go.” 

Then the dwarfish prince ordered out his 
chariot and hastened to King Meere’s palace. 
He was granted an audience with the princess, 
asked her to become his queen, and she refused 
him. \ " 1 ' ; : 

“Ah! very well, my fair lady. He who 
laughs last laughs best,” he exclaimed . 

Zoa was frightened, and as soon as the 
wicked prince was well on his way she hurried 
to the king and told him all. The king an- 
swered : “Never fear, Zoa ; I will protect you.” 

When Gregoire heard about his rival, he 


1 84 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


wanted to challenge him at once, but Zoa and 
her father prevailed on him not to do so. 

In the meantime Suzann, Zoa’s maid, re- 
ceived a note saying that a gentleman wished 
to see her in the garden. She went, and was 
surprised to find Prince Felix waiting for her. 
He told her in as few words as possible what 
he wanted, viz. : that he had heard she ( Su- 
zann) knew the secret of the beautiful hair, 
and she would be well paid to tell it. She hes- 
itated several times, but every time he would 
make the amount of money greater than be- 
fore, until at last she consented, and said the 
whole secret was that the princess wore thir- 
teen solid gold hairpins. They were magic, 
and as soon as she lost one, her hair would 
change greatly; in fact, become ugly. 

Prince Felix was delighted, and said : f< Mv 


AND OTHER STORIES 185 

dear, you take down this beautiful hair every 
night and put away the pins, do you not?” 

“t take down the hair and put the pins in a 
little gold casket, but her highness always locks 
the little case away, and she almost always 
counts them before she locks the case,” replied 
the maid. 

“Do you know where she puts the key?” 
eagerly questioned the dwarf. 

“I do not, your highness, and I cannot see 
why you wish to harm my beautiful princess,” 
tearfully the maid replied. 

The prince, swayed by the keen disappoint- 
ment he felt at the refusal of the beautiful prin- 
cess, replied : “Because, my dear, she refused 
to marry me, and I want to have revenge by 
making her so ugly that this handsome young 
prince will not want to marry her.” 


1 86 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


‘Oh! you wicked prince!” was all Suzann 
could say. 

“Well, then, miss, will you get a pin out of 
that pile of gold and bring it to me at this place 
tomorrow night?” 

“I don’t know how I am going to do it, 
though.” 

“Ah, I have it !” said the prince with an evil 
smile. “You put the pins in her hair in the 
morning, don’t you?” 

“Yes,’ answered the maid. 

“Well, put one in a little loosely, so she will 
lose it on her morning ride. Do you promise 
to help me in this, Suzann?” 

“I promise, but now I must go or my ab- 
sence will excite suspicion,” and she darted 
through the trees, while the plotting prince 


AND OTHER STORIES l8 7 

leaped into his chariot and was soon lost in a 
cloud of dust. 

******* 
Before Suzann had returned to the palace, 
Princess Zoa had a strange visitor. She was 
standing on the balcony, thinking of the events 
of the day, and wondering at some of them, 
when suddenly a soft hand was laid on her 
arm, and looking around, she beheld a most 
beautiful fairy. She was startled when the 
fairy said : “Princess Zoa, you are in great 
and immediate danger. Come to me in the 
arbor in an hour, and I will tell you all, for you 
must know tonight.” 

The fairy then disappeared, leaving Zoa fear- 
ing some new plot of Prince Felix was about 
to be disclosed. The end of the hour found 
Zoa rapidly approaching the arbor, and she saw 
the fairy waiting for her. 


1 88 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


“Now, my kind little friend, what is it?” 

“Princess Zoa, what I tell you will seem 
very strange and wicked, but I must speak fast, 
so please don’t interrupt me until I have fin- 
ished.” 

Then the fairy said : “Princess Zoa, as you 
know, you have very beautiful hair (it is not 
about Prince Felix, after all, thought Zoa), the 
most beautiful hair in all the world, I believe, 
but listen ; you refused to marry a bad, wicked 
prince, and have promised to marry another 
who is a true nobleman. The wicked prince, 
on hearing it, was furious. He sent for your 
maid and has paid her well to tell the secret of 
its beauty, which is, of course, the wearing of 
the thirteen hairpins. She told the secret, re- 
ceived the money, and tonight she takes a pin 
out of the little gold casket you keep them in. 
If this is impossible she will put one in loosely 


AND OTHER STORIES 189 

in the morning, so you will lose it early in the 
day. Then your hair will change to a horrid 
color, almost pink, and it is the hope of the 
wicked prince that your accepted suitor will 
not wed you. To prevent this, I give you a 
magic hairpin, which is exactly like those you 
wear. Put this on top of your pins tonight and 
let the wicked prince and your fake maid get 
this one for if they do no harm will come to 
you, and no good to them.” 

Before the princess could speak, the fairy 
was gone, and Zoa wandered back to the palace 
wondering what would happen next. 

That night, closely as Zoa watched, she did 
not see Suzann secrete a pin in her sleeve just 
before she locked the case. Next morning the 
princess told Suzann that she would do her own 
hair just for a change. Suzann was delighted, 


190 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


for if a pin were lost no blame would be at- 
tached to her. 

Thus the day passed, Zoa laughing in her 
sleeve, Suzann eager for the darkness, so she 
could give Prince Felix the desired pin, and 
Prince Felix, feeling sure that his plan had 
succeeded, could scarcely wait for the evening. 

sj« sfs ^ 

Night came at last, and a shadow was seen 
in the garden. Very soon another shadow was 
seen stealing from the castle. 

“Is that you, Suzann?” 

“It is, my lord.” 

“Did you get it?” 

“I did.” 

“Give it to me.” 

“Here it is, my lord,” and Suzann handed 
Prince Felix a small parcel. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


91 


He unrolled the fine, soft paper, but found 
nothing in it. 

“What does this mean, Suzann? You tell 
me you have one of the magic pins, but I find 
this package empty.” 

“Surely, my lord, you must have dropped it.” 

“Impossible! You have fooled me.” 

“Indeed, your highness, I have not. I, my- 
self — I — I — I” 

“Stop!” thundered the angry prince, “I will 
have an explanation, but not here. I have my 
row-boat on the river, and you shall tell me 
there.” 

Silently they went down to the river and en- 
tered the boat. Prince Felix furious, and Su- 
zann trembling in fear. And while Princess 
Zoa sat comfortably telling the whole tale to 
her father and lover, Prince Felix and Suzann 
quarreled so furiously in the little boat that 


1 92 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


they did not notice the sky’s threatening clouds, 
and when they were in the middle of the river 
the waves became so stormy and wild that be- 
fore they could reach either shore the boat 
capsized and both were drowned. 

Princess Zoa missed her maid, and diligent 
search was made, but in vain. Prince Felix was 
also missed, but everyone thought he had gone 
on one of his many unexplained journeys to 
Paris, and so no questions were asked. Noth- 
ing was known for certain until the sea gave up 
its dead. 

It was then that Zoa sadly remembered the 
fairy’s words : “Let them have that one, for 
no harm will come to you, and no good to 
them.” 


VICTORINE. 


he Chief of Police sat at his desk. 
He had just entered some names 
on his book when the telephone 
rang. 

On answering it, he was informed that Mr. 
B. Curtis’ little girl was lost. He hurriedly 
wrote the description the father gave, and 
after hanging up the receiver turned and said : 
“King, you had better take this. Hunt for a 
child 3 years old, light hair and blue eyes ; wore 
a white dress, a white hat and black slippers 
and stockings when last seen. Go at once, 
King, you don’t look very well and the fresh 
air will do you good after all day in the office.” 

A tall, handsome policeman came up to the 



194 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


desk, took the description from the chief, placed 
it in his pocket and passed out into the street. 

Jji j{< >)« 

“King is a mighty nice fellow,” said a fellow 
policeman as he watched him go out. 

“You are quite right,” answered the chief. 

“How did he come to be on the police 
force?” said another. 

“You don’t often see such a refined young 
fellow on the police force.” 

“Well, boys,” said the chief, “he is only a 
policeman temporarily.” 

“How’s that?” asked another. 

“He is hunting for his sister who ran away 
from home some years ago. The father and 
the girl quarreled and she ran away. The old 
man died recently and left quite a fortune to 
King. He thought his sister ought to have 
half, and so he started out to hunt for her. He 


AND OTHER STORIES 


195 


tried a great many ways, but failed, and at last 
he came to me and asked me to put him on the 
force, as he thought he would have a larger 
field for his search and a better chance of find- 
ing her. He receives no salary, and if he finds 
his sister, of course, he quits the force.” 

Just then a call came for the patrol wagon, 
and all the officers jumped up, took their places 
and were gone. 

When King left the station he walked slowly 
along the street. He wondered where he 
should look for the lost baby, and he wondered 
if he should be successful in his search. 

It was getting dark, and the parents would 
be frantic about the child. 

He had forgotten to ask the chief where he 
would return the child if she were found. 

He took out the written description, hoping 


196 OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 

that the chief had written it down. It was all 
right. On the slip was written “Mr. B. Cur- 
tis, 162 Downing Square.” 

He was about to replace it in his pocket when 
a baby voice piped out : “Ise losted, I dess.” 

He looked down and saw a very sweet little 
child, apparently talking to herself. 

He was certain, from the description, she 
was the one for whom he was searching. 

“Yes, little one, I guess you are losted , but 
I have been hunting for you and I am going to 
take you home to your mamma right away.” 

As he stooped to pick her up she saw he was 
a policeman and shrank from him. 

“Oo is a peesman ; I go no wiv 00 ; peesman 
tate bad dirls; I’se no bad baby.” 

The policeman wondered how he should get 
her to come quietly, and thought it strange 


AND OTHER STORIES 


197 


that so many of the children were taught to be 
afraid of an officer. i 

“If I give you some candy, will you let me 
take you to your mamma? I am not a bad 
policeman, and you are not a bad little girl, and 
I am going to take you to your mamma.” 

She looked up. “I dess oo ain’t bad pees- 
man; baby likes tany.” 

“Then you shall have some. Come, let’s go 
into this store and get some.” 

He took her hand, not Idaring to carry her 
yet, but after he gave her the candy she was 
perfectly willing to let him carry her. 

Before long he was at the Curtis home. It 
was a neat little place, but nothing boasting of 
wealth. 

He had asked the child what her name was, 
but was unable to make out what it was from 
her childish prattle. 


OLD GRUMPY’S GOLD 


198 

Before he reached the house the child fell 
asleep, and it was very tenderly that he laid 
her in her father’s arms a few minutes later. 

“Come in,” said Mr. Curtis, “and let us 
thank you for finding our baby so promptly. 
Her mother is almost distracted, so please ex- 
cuse me while I run upstairs and tell her that 
Victorine is found.” 

“Victorine!” gasped King. “I only knew 
one girl by that name. O, will I never , never 
find my sister? Could this be ” 

But just then a woman’s voice was heard 
saying : “I must go right down and thank the 
officer for bringing her so soon.” 

A swish of skirts, and a beautiful woman 
stood in the door. 

“Officer,” said said, shaking his hand, “allow 
me to thank you for returning my child safely 
to us. I was nearly crazy.” 


AND OTHER STORIES IQg 

King looked at her and said : “Mrs. Curtis, 
may I ask you what your name was before you 
married ?” 

“My name was Victorine King before I was 
married, but why do you ask?” 

“My name is Fred King,” was all he said. 

“My own brother !” she cried. 

Mr. Curtis came in, and everything was ex- 
plained and everyone was happy, and there was 
genuine rejoicing at the police station when it 
was learned that King had found his sister. 
And Fred King thinks that by this time Victor- 
ine has learned that her uncle is not a “bad 
peesman.” 


AUG 23 1906 








